
Class. 
Book 



/yr/ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT! 



SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS 



EVENING PARTIES 



PDBNISHINO COMPLETE AND VARIED PKOGBjAMMES FOR 



^- '. 



TWENTY-SIX ENTERTAINMENTS. 



LEGER D. MATNE 



NEW YORK : 
DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS. 

/ 1)5' ' : ■ 






^t 



l« 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, \>j 

DICK & FITZGEEALD, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Qongress, at Washington, D. C. 



PEETAOE. 



It has long been a settled and accepted fact that " All "vrork and no 
plaj makes Jack a duU boy f and if this be true of Jack, it is equally 
true of Gill. It is essential in matters of recreation, that, in order to 
enjoy ourselves thoroughly, we must relax more or less the sedate 
gravity of maturer years, and biing ourselves down to the youthful 
level of Jack and Gill — before their fearful fall, of course, as the parlor 
floor offers no opportunities for the 43ad accident that tradition has 
ascribed to them. In fact, there is nothing more delightful than, laying 
aside aU stately dignity and unnecessary restraint, to devote the whole 
or part of an evening to social amusement, pm-e and simple. 

Sometimes, but not very often, we find in society a gifted individual 
who knows how to take the lead in a few round games, and is able to 
divert the company with a trick or two. His opportune talents are re- 
warded by a flattering prominence, and he steps out from the ranks to 
assume a well-deserved leadership. But his resources are, perhaps, 
soon exhausted. He has succeeded in raising a keen appetite for more 
of the same sort, which he is unable to appease. His laurels fade — he 
relapses into his former insignificance. Like Jack, he strives to climb. 
He shouts, '^ Excelsior !" and falls back, the victim of exhausted ener- 
gy ; involving, perhaps, in his catastrophe, some amiable Gill, who has 
kindly lent her aid to further his lofty designs. 

To aid the talented and to direct the uninitiated, this work has been 
prepared. It afibrds carefully selected recreations amply sufficient for 



6 FBEFACE. 

the enteitainment of a social gathering once every week during the 
entire winter season. 

The games are plainly described; examples being given to show how 
each is done, and suggesting pleasing varieties in the manner of their 
performance. The book is full of original novelties, including also some 
well-known pastimes^ illusions and tricks, too good to be ignored, but 
presented in a new and attractive dress. Prominent among these will 
be found an entirely new and original version of " Mrs. Jarley's "Wax- 
Works," written expressly for this work, and complete in aU its details. 

The comical illusions present no serious difficulties in their prepara- 
tion, and the tricks, if the details of their description be closely followed 
step by step, are entirely within the capabilities of the merest tyro in 
the art of amusing. 

An examination of the programme will furnish, it is believed, a full 
and satisfactory answer to the oft-repeated and vexatious question, j 

"What shall we do to-night?" 



PROGRAMME 



FOR 



TWENTY -SIX ENTERTAINMENTS. 



ITRST EVENING. 

PAas. 

The Signal Masteb - 18 

The Elephant 17 

Pity THE Poou Blind 20 

The Grotesque Quaktette 21 

Selling Statues....^ 24 

The Divided Tafes 27 

SECOND EVENING. 

My HOUSE; Tour House 29 

The Odd Card 30 

This or That 32 

The Museum 32 

The Nondescript 35 

To Magnetize a Cane 38 

TH 1 KD EVENING. 

Throwing Light ." 40 

The Centaur.. i..... 41 



8 PBOGBAMME. 

Page. 

The Magic Handkerchief 44 

A Magical Knot 46 

One Old Ourang-outang 47 

The House that Jack Built 49 

The Birds 50 

Musical Merry-go-round 51 

The Invisible Transfer 53 

rOUETH EVENTN^G. 

Musical Neighbors -.... 56 

The Ejibarrassed Landlord 58 

To Guess the Two Ends of a Line of Dominoes 60 

The Irishman's Wake '. — 60 

Planting 62 

The Changed Dice-Spots : 64 

ELFTH EVENTtTG. 

The Blind Beggar 65 

Garibaldi 66 

The Giraffe 67 

The I^eedle and Thread Trick 70 

Mary's Lamb 71 

Eight is Wrong 74 

SIXTH EVENI]5?^G. 

Musical Surprise 75 

The Compressed Man 76 

The Elongated Man 78 

Traveling Alphabetically 78 

The Interrupted Housebreakers 80 

Telling the Dice Unseen 81 



PBOGBAMME. 9 

SEVENTH EVENING. 

Page. 

Hat Measueement 83 

Insects and Elo wees 84 

The Wonderful Giant 86 

The EMi-EEOB of Austria 89 

John Brown 91 

Hocus Pocus 92 

The Mysterious Eelease 95 

Century Court 98 

EIGHTH EVENING. 

jMes. Jakley's Wax-TTobes., 100 

Justice is Blikd 122 

The Tabus Obatob 123 

What's O'Clock 126 

NINTH EVENING. 

Eailway Accidents 128 

The Severed Head 130 

"Who Was He? 132 

Or any other Jackass 133 

The Hat and Quarter Trick 134 

TheEoyal Marriages 135 

TENTH EVENING. 

Nonsense 136 

TheEisingMan 137 

The Long-Necked Gentleman 139 

Proverbs IN Chorus 140 

The Muffin Man 140 

The Eabbit, 142 



/ 



10 PEOGBAMME. 

Paqb. 
Magic Music 143 

The Elements 144 

The Rose-Colobed Goat 145- 

Cain AND Abel 147 

The High Jump. 147 



ELEVENTH EVENING. 

The Penny Post.. 148 

The Naughty Bo y 149 

Why, "When, and "Where? 151 

Characters. 152 

The Cut Tape made "Whole 153 

To make a Selected Card assume any Position in the Pack 155 

TWELFTH EVENING. 

The Ornithorhyncus Paradoxus 158 

"What does My Thought Kesemble ? 160 

Hand Shadows 161 

Second Sight . 162 

One! Two! Three! 163 

The German Chorus... 164 

The Hidden Word 166 

THIRTEENTH EVENING. 

The Hutchinson Family 168 

Catechism Cards 169 

Tell-Talb Ten.. 170 

Midnight Screecher 172 

Twenty Questions 173 

Dominoes Blindfold 174 



PROGRAMME. 11 

POimTEENTH EVENLN^G. 

PACW. 

Tableaux VWANTS 176 

lavrNG Flowers 185,- 

Tell AND THs Apple 186 

TiTANLA AND Puck 187 

King Alfred IN THE Swineherd's Hut 188 

Penn's Treaty with the Indians 189 

GuLNARE Visiting Conrad in Prison 189 

Mr. Pickwick ANT) Mrs. Bardell 190 

Open your Mouth AND Shut your Eyes 190 

Liberty Freeing the Slave 190 

Sophia and Olivia Visiting the Fortune-teller 191 

The Sacrifice OF Abraham 191 

The Inconveniences of Single Life 191 

The Conveniences OP Married Life 191 

Thb Flower Queen 192 

fifteenth: evening. 

Mind TOUR P's and Q's 193 

The "Wonderful Glantess 194 

The Dwarf ^ 195 

The ITglyMug 196 > 

Invisible Suspension 198 

The Obedient Egg 198 

sixteenth evening. 

The Immovable Card 200 

The Double Pea Illusion 200 

?:he Story of The Trades 201 

The Twisted Head 203 

Famous Numbers 204 

How to Grow Tall Suddenly 205 

Egyptian Eye Game 206 



12 PROGBAMME. 

Paob. 

Onb OF THE Black Aets 206 

Thb Bloweks Baffled 207 

SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 

Shadow Pantomimes... 208 

The Peejee Islanders AT Home 215 

Ah Sin in Search of a Meal 222 

EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 



The Poetical Butterfly 229 

The Auctioneer 231 

The Tame Dime 233 

The Old Apple-Woman 235 

The Magic Answer 237 

NINETEENTH EVENING. 

Opinions 238 

The Distinguished Stranger 239 

The Parm Yard 240 

Authors 241 

Likenesses 242 

The Vanishing Dime - 244 

The GuNT Sneeze 245 

TWENTIETH EVENING. 

The Gallantt Show 246 

The Crocodile of the Nile 248 

twenty-eiest evening. 

Electricity , 256 

Thb Merchant of al£. Climes 256 



PBOGBAMME, 13 

Pagb. 

Magnetism i 257 

"Wall Street Bkokeks 259. 

Machine Poetky 261 

Head, Body, and Legs 262 



TWEl^TT-SECOND EYENTtJG. 

Punch AND Judy Show 264 

Prama OF Punch AND Judy 269 



TWEIfTT-THTRD EVEimSTG. 

Cupid Comes 279 

FizBuz 280 

The Egyptian Mummies 281 

Shadow Puzzles 283 

The Captive Key Released 284 



TWEKTT-rOUIlTH eveiuxg. 

Private Theatricals 288 

Stage, Proscenium, and Auditorium 289 

Lighting THE Theatre 291 

The C uetain and Drop 292 

Scenery and Scene Painting 293 

Costume 298 

Properties and Accessories 298 

Stage Effects 299 

The Stage Manager 302 

The Prompter 302 

The Orchestra 303 

The Performers 303 

Sam Welleb Yisits his Mother-in-law 304 



14 PBOaRAMME. 

TWENTY-FITTH EVENTN'a. 

FAGB. 

A Family Fix 310 

The Philopena 331 



TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 

Charades IN Pantomime 353 

iMPROMPTa Charades 354 

Impromptu Proverbs : 354 

Parlor Pantomimes 355 

Love under Obstacles; or, Jack's Triumph 35t 



SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS 



EVEN"INa PARTIES 



It is certainly a subject for regret, that in our great cities, 
our towns, villages, and more scattered country homes, social 
gatherings are so apt to assume the character of ^' solemn oc- 
casions," where the perplexed hostess and equally perplexed 
guests hover about the room, trying vainly to solve the prob- 
lem, ''what shall we do?" 

Dancing and music, varied by eating and drinking, are the 
standard amusements at evening parties ; but there are many 
circles where dancing is excluded on principle, whUe amateur 
music has reached such perfection that it requires a decided 
and well- cultivated talent to make it endurable among people 
who have any pretensions to refinement and taste. There is 
really something pitiful in the sight of a company of intelli- 
gent and talented young folks, each one possessing an unde- 
veloped fund of ready wit, mutely enduring an agonizing ama- 
teur performance of fine music; while the pianist, who has 
studied hard and can play well when alone, stumbles over the 
keys, blindly groping in all the torments of shyness, till a hid- 
eous discord is produced. Patiently the listeners sit, smiling 
under the torture with a politeness often springing from pure 
kind feeling, while each and all of them might be having a 
*' jolly time " did they but know the best outlet for their wit 
and good-nature, their ingenuity or talent. 

To supply the necessary information for such pleasure-seek- 
ers, the following collection of amusing pastimes is now offered. 

Variety of talent has been considered, and good-nature is an 
essential element always supposed to be present. The old peo- 



16 WBAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

pie can lay aside their years for a few hours ; the business man 
forget his counting-house ; the matron her housekeeping and 
domestic arrangements; the children will not be forgotten, 
but find a pleasant vent for their love of amusement ; and the 
young man who votes " parties a bore " is especially invited to 
come and change his opinion. 

'^ The more, the merrier," is a proverb especially adapted to 
social gatherings, where all are anxious to contribute to the 
general amusement, and harmless personahties may be ven- 
tured upon without fear of offense, if the game should require it. 

Come then, any number of you, of all ages and all disposi- 
tions, and pass a few evenings with us. 

Lay aside your hats and overcoats, your hoods and shawls ; 
give your neckties a last twitch, your curls a final brush ; pass 
into the drawing-room; greet the hostess; shake hands all 
round ; make a few original remarks on the state of the atmos- 
phere, and open the 



y\Y\^T J)vf:]Mij^q 



with a merry game, which includes the children, and should be 
played before their bed-time. It is intended to be joined in by 
all present, and therefore no one should be allowed to be a 
mere looker-on. There are usually a few persons who prefer 
to be merely spectators of the first game of the evening; but 
the leader should interpose his authority to prevent this as 
jnuch as possible. 

The Signal Master. 

Clear the centre of the room, and place in a row a number of 
chairs, three less than the number of players. If fourteen per- 
sons are playing the game, place eleven chairs. 

Blindfold one of the players, and select another for the sig- 
nal-master. The blindfolded one stands a little apart from the 



THE FIRST EVENING. 17 

row of chairS; and the signal-master stands erect, while the 
others make a long chain behind him, the one next to him 
grasping his coat, the others holding by each other's dresses 
and coats. 

This chain of players now walks slowly round the chairs, the 
blindfolded one waving a wand, and singing : 

" The signal-master ■n'ill give a call, 
Take your chairs then, one and all." 

When the chain has marched gravely two or three times 
round the row of chairs, the blindfolded player gives a sudden 
tap with her wand, and the signal-master calls out^* Chairs ! " 

All now run toward the chairs, each trying to secure one, 
and the game is repeated as before. Three will this time be 
left out, two of whom are again required for signal-master and 
singer, and the blindfolded one is out, and waits for a new 
game. 

Eemove a chair for each game, until all the players are out. 

While the players are busy with this game, a few shp quietly 
away, and after some mysterious preparations in the dressing- 
room, and by the time the last chair has been removed, are 
ready to surprise the company by the introduction of a new 
and most wonderful quadruped, one which has never yet been 
imported by Barnum, or any other enterprising showman, but 
which may occasionally be found in select circles for private 
exhibition. 

It is preceded by a showman, who, after sundry bows and 
flourishes, acts as herald, and announces to the expectant audi- 
ence the arrival of the aforementioned quadruped, in a neat 
speech, either selected or impromptu. 

The Elepliant. 

If an Eastern costume can be improvised at short notice — a 
turban, sash, and wand — the showman, thus attired, says: 
''Ladies and gentlemen, I am requested by my particular 



18 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

friend; Rambustiflcationjambereehoptidoodon, of the Feejee- 
folorum Islands, to present to your notice the famous elephant 
upon which this renowned and invincible warrior was mounted 
at the celebrated siege of Luckontherongside. This elephant, 
ladies and gentlemen, is precisely two hundred and forty-two 
years of age, to-day being his birthday, and the register of his 
birth being carefully marked upon his off-side tusk in the best 
India ink. Little boys are particularly requested not to put 
pins into this noble animal's legs, nor to put into his trunk 
more than a peck of apples at any one time. 

''Eambustificationjambereehoptidoodon, you may now enter 
and exhibit the noble Asiatic quadruped in his great feats of 
the arena, as witnessed by all the crowned heads in Europe, 
Asia, Africa and America, Jersey thrown in." 
{Enter Bambustificationjamhereelioptidoodonj in a superb East- 
ern costume composed of a turban of woolen, scarf, cmd a 
gorgeous sash of a lady^s shawl, and followed by the 
elephant.) 

The elephant gravely advances to a space cleared at the end 
of the drawing-room, and is addressed in Hindostanee by his 
master. 

Hekald. Rambustificationjambereehoptidoodon is ordering 
the elephant to bow to the company. 

{Elephant makes a very low bow.) 
Another order in Hindostanee, again translated by the in . 
terpreter : 
Herald. The elephant will now wave his trunk three times. 

{Elephant tvaves his trunk.) 
Separate orders being given and translated, the elephant 
goes through a variety of feats of intelligence, such as walking 
over his master, who lies upon the ground ; kneeling down and 
rising again at the word of command ; lifting one leg, and then 
the other, as ordered ; bowing North, South, East, and West, 
or any other feats that may suggest themselves to the fer- 
tile imagination of his exhibitors. 



THE FIRST EVENING. 



19 



Finally the elephant carries some of the little children round 
the room upon his back, and walks gravely back to the dress-, 
ing-room, with one of the boys taking an Eastern ride. 

How was he made ? Follow him to the dressing-room, and 
you will find him presenting the appearance shown in Fig. 1. 




Fig. ]. 



The outer skin of the marvelous animal proves to be a large 
gray shawl, such as gentlemen carry when traveling. Sewn 
upon this are two large gray patches for ears, two round pieces 
of white paper, with black dots in the centre for eyes ; the 
tusks, carefully secured and held in their proper places, prove 
to be rolls of glossy white paper, pasted into the required shape. 

Taking off the shawl, the skeleton of this wonderful Eastern 



20 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

quadruped will appear as illustrated in Fig. 2, proving to be 
two good-natured young gentlemen, who have covered their 
boots with India-rubber over-shoes, and assumed the uncom- 
fortable appearance here shown. The foremost one holds a 
second gray shawl tightly rolled in his hands, and imitates the 
gentle swaying of the elephant's trunk with it. 




Pig. 2. 

The taller and larger the men who make the framework, the 
more '' stunning" the elephant will be. 

While the elephant is being unrobed, the party still in the 
drawing-room may amuse themselves by the following capital 
embarrassing delusion and snare : 

Pity the Poor Blind. 

It is surprising how helpless a person is when deprived of 
sight. As the proof of the pudding is in the eating, the truth 
of the foregoing remark may be easily tested. 

Select a gentleman of the party, blindfold him carefully with 
a handkerchief, and place him three or four yards from, and 
facing, a table, near the edge of which is a lighted candle. 
Kow bid him turn once entirely round, then advance toward 
the candle and try to blow it out. His vain attempts, oft re- 



THE FIRST EVENINa. 



21 



peated, will cause much amusement ; our artist photographed 
the victim just as he was in full pucker not more than two 
yards away from the candle, and in momentary dread of "burn- 
ing his nose. 




Tig. s. 



While the company are ^' going it blind" in the drawing-room, 
a most entertaining amusement may he arranged, in either an 
adjoining apartment, or at one end of the same room. It will 
require preparation beforehand, but, once in readiness, needs 
but a few moments to adjust. 



The Grotesque Quartette. 

A very funny effect can be produced by painting four figures, 
as grotesque and absurd as possible, side by side, on a drop- 
curtain or other suitable material. The heads should be drawn 
in such proportions, that the faces, when cut out, will exactly 
admit a person's face to protrude through each from behind, 
allowing the chin to pass through as far as the neck, but con- 



^ WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

cealing the ears and hair. The four persons, whose faces are 
used to complete the figures, should be able to sing some comic 
quartette, and the effect is irresistible. 




Pig. 4» 



A piece of sized muslin, such as is used for painted roller- 
blinds, or store window-shades, affords a good material on 
which to paint the figures ; and, in default of artistic talent, 
the figures of negro minstrels, cut out of their large show-bills, 
or circus-posters, will answer. The picture, when the represen- 
tation is to take place, must be secured between the folding- 
doors; or, where there is a stage, just behind the drop-curtain, 
and so arranged that all the space behind the picture will be en- 
tirely hidden from the audience. The accompanying illustra- 
tions will give a clear idea of the whole arrangement, showing 
respectively : the front view of the picture (Fig. 4) ; the means 



TME FIRST EVENING. 



ased behind the picture for enabling the performers to insert 
their faces in their respective ** heads " (Fig. 5) ; and the gen- 
eral effect of the whole as viewed by the audience (Fig. 6). 




Fig. 5. 

The identity of the performers' faces is usually utterly de- 
stroyed, except, perhaps, in the case of very marked features; 
and even then a few lines of burnt cork, a little flour on the 
moustache, or some other fancy touches, will entirely alter 
them. 

As the lower part of the countenance projects through and 

beyond the surface of the painting, the performers can turn 

aces toward one another sufficiently to carry on a witty 

'sation, similar to the jokes of the ^* end men" in a min- 

erformance. with immense effect. 



24 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 




commence with due de- 



p*0&&«iig' i^iblUtfc Oi 



Selling Statues. 



This Is one of those parlor games in which all the merri- 
ment and enjoyment depend upon the ready wit of the speak- 
ers, and the good-natured endurance of the victims. 

A certain portion of the players, having consented to take 
the parts of statues, stand up at one end of the room, or seat 
themselves in a group, according to the fancy of the artist. 

The purchaser or purchasers, supposed to he recently ar- 



THE FIRST EVENING. 25 

rived from the rural districts, then enter, and the artist en- 
deavors to dispose of his works of art. 

As he describes each statue, he covers the face for a moment 
with a light handkerchief, removing it again during his de- 
scription. 

The sale should be conducted upon the rule of contraries, 
the descriptions being, so far as good-nature will allow, exactly- 
opposite to personal appearances ; and, no matter how absurd 
the variance, a smile or a frown upon the face of the statue 
must pay the penalty of a forfeit. 

Example : We will suppose in the studio, Mr. Jenkins, of 
diminutive stature and insignificant features; Mrs. Smith, a 
matron short, but very stout, with florid complexion; Mr. 
Jones, very tall and large in build ; and Miss Simpkins, a tiny, 
sylph -like blonde. Mr. Eeynolds, the artist, having arranged 
the statues, Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins enter to purchase. 

Mr. Eeynolds. Good morning, sir ! Pleased to see you, 
madam ! 

Mr. Hopetn'S. We have taken the liberty, Mr. Reynolds, 
of calling to see what statues you have for sale. 

Mrs. HoPEXtJTS. I want something classic, for my front 
drawing-room. 

Mr. Reynolds. Classic ! Ahem ! Yes ! Let me see ! Have 
you seen my ''Jove Enraged ? " 

Mr. Hopein^s. Jove Enraged ? I have not seen it. 

Mr. Reynolds [throiving a handkerchief over the face of 
meek Mr. Jenkins.) There, sir, you have still to behold one of 
the grandest creations of the nineteenth century {removing tJie 
handkerchief). The statue, as you see, is colossal, four times 
the size of life, as we suppose Jove to have been built upon a 
grander scale than mere mortals. Mark, if you please, the 
grand proportions of the figure, the god-like carriage of that 
noble head, the thunderbolts but playthings in that powerful 
grasp, the massive features, and the magnificent pose of the 
shoulders. The personification of irresistible power ! 



26 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Mrs. Hopkins. But, Mr. Eeynolds, such an immense statue 
will be out of place in my quiet drawing-room. You should 
sell it for an ornament to some public hall or park. Pray show 
something to fill a smaller niche in my modest apartment. 

Me. Eeynolds. I am afraid that I have nothing else that 
is strictly classic. How would you like a Shakspearian sub- 
ject? I have a very much admired statue here, a Titania 
{throws a handkerchief over the face of Mrs. Smith). This is 
an exquisite httle gem, quite suitable for a what-not or a 
bracket {removes the handkerchief). It is, as you perceive, 
upon a diminutive scale, as the subject demands. Mark the 
fairy-like grace of the attitude, the tiny, graceful figure, the 
delicate features, and the sylph-like, etherial proportions. 

Mr. Hopkins. Have you anything historical ? 

Mr. Reynolds {veiling Mr. Jones). Napoleon the First ! 
The great mind in the small frame. Proportioned, sir, by ac- 
tual measurement, though you would scarcely believe Napo- 
leon was quite so small {removing the handkerchief). The feet, 
especially, are like a lady's, and the whole power of this mighty 
man was concentrated in brain. The head is large and noble. 

Mrs. Hopkins. What is this, Mr. Reynolds ? 

Mr. Reynolds. Cleopatra {veiling Miss Simpkins), the 
swarthy Egyptian, a specimen of the new art of coloring statues 
{removing handkerchief). Like Jupiter, this statue, as you per- 
ceive, is on a large scale ; but history assigns noble proportions 
to Cleopatra. The jetty hair and large black eyes suit well 
the bronze complexion. 

Thus the sale may proceed as far as the endurance of the 
statues will last. Special features, as large noses, small eyes, 
red hair, big feet, and so on, may be commented upon, by the 
rula of contraries, until a smile or a frown obliges the unfortu- 
laate victim to pay a forfeit. 

Most of the company having now enjoyed a laugh at their 
own expense, or that of their neighbors, we may conclude 
the first evening's entertainment by an amusing trick, called 



TEE FIRST EVENING. 27 

The Divided Tapes. 

To perform this trick, a little preparation is necessary. Pro- 
vide two pieces of tape, each four feet long, and three ordinary 
cotton spools ; or, if preferred, three of the barrel-shaped wood- 
en foundations (Fig. 7) used by fringe -and- tassel manufacturers 




Fia 7. 



for making the upper part of window -tassels. Fold each of 
the tapes double, as shown in Fig. 8 ; pass about half an hich of 
the looped end of A through the loop of B, and fold it back on the 



^ ^^^ 



Fig 8. 



tape A, which will thus be hooked into B. Pass the open ends 
of B through a spool, and draw the spool over the interlocked 
loop, as in Fig. 9 ; this spool must not be moved from its po- 




FlG. 9, 

sition at any time during the performance of the trick, as it 
conceals and holds the looped ends of the tape. Next^ 4a^e 
the two remaining spools, and pass one on the tape B, at|d tlpre 
otlier on A. as shown in Fig. 10. The whole contrivance isiiow 
ready for use. Eequest two persons to assist you ; give the 
ends of the tape A (Fig. 10) to one of them, and the ends of B 



28 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NlGRTf 



to the other, desiring them to hold the tape and spools out 
level between them. Now, explain that the spools are strung 
on to the tape, moving the two outer spools (not the middle 
one) to illustrate your explanation ; then inform the spectators 
that you propose to remove the spools from the tape without 




Fig. 10. 

passing them over the ends held by your assistants. Next, ask 
each of your aids to hand you one of the two ends held by him, 
either one of them, as it is quite immaterial which ; you only 
desire to make the matter doubly sure, at the same time tie the 
ends that you have received with a double knot (see Fig. 11) j 
thus drawing the three spools together, and appearing to se- 
cure them perfectly. This being done, grasp the spools with 




Fig. 11. 



your right hand, and instruct your assistants to be ready, at 
the word '^ three," to pull the tapes with a sudden jerk. You 
then give the word, ^'one, two, three," and the spools will re- 
main in your hand, the two tapes remaining in the assistants' 
hands, and joined in the middle by the knot which you tied. 
This trick is sometimes performed with thin twine instead of 
tapes, the looped ends being tied together with a piece of fine 
sewing thread, which breaks when pulled apart. 



TRE SECOND EVENING. 29 



^ECO]MD ^VEjv(I]Mq. 



It being presumed that social evenings for such amusements 
as we propose to inaugurate commence like other festive occa- 
sions, by the arrival of a few early folks in advance of the more 
fashionable comers, it is often a good plan to start with a gam© 
which can be made interesting for a few players, such as 

My House, Tour House. 

This game will afford considerable amusement for a party of 
five or six persons, or more, and requires but little preparation. 
Provide a piece of moderately stout cord about a yard in length; 
at one end make a small loop that will not shp, pass the other 
end of the cord through this loop, thus making a larger loop, 
say six inches in diameter, which will slip easily ; attach the 
end of the string to a cane or short stick, and we have a very 
respectable rod and line to go a-fishing to catch fingers. 

The players are arranged around a small table— a round one 
is preferable — in the centre of which a circle about five inches in 
diameter is marked ; this may be drawn with a piece of chalk, 
or consist of a round piece of paper, as may be most convenient. 

One of the players now takes the rod and line, arranges the 
loop around the circle in the centre of the table and holds the 
rod in his hand ; he then explains to the rest of the players that 
when he says " my house," each must put his forefinger, 
promptly at the word of command, inside the circle, and keep 
it there. The fisherman then says, ''your house," and the 
players must each promptly withdraw his finger and place it on 
the table immediately in front of him. The words of command 
'^ my house," " your house," should be given with sufficient freft- 



30 WSAT SHALL WE DO TONIGHT f 

quency to confuse the players, a forfeit being attached to any 
failure to act promptly and correctly at the word. When the 
fisherman thinks he has a good chance he should jerk the 
string upward, and try to catch one or more of the fingers. 
The person whose finger is caught next takes the fishing-rod, 
and in his turn tries to catch somebody else's finger. The fish- 
erman has perfect liberty to repeat the same command if he 
pleases ; after having given the words ^' my house," and brought 
the fingers into the circle, he can again say ^' my house," and 
the party who withdraws his finger has to pay a forfeit. 

When the forfeits are all paid, some skillful necromancer 
may puzzle the probably increased number of guests by the 
following specimen of his cunning : 

The Odd Card. 

This simple but amusing trick is performed with an ordinary 
pack of cards. Eequest one of the company to place both hands 
flat on the table, then insert between each finger of his right 
hand two cards or one pair at a time; this will require four 
pairs of cards. Follow the same method with his left hand, but 
placing a single card, instead of a pair, between the third and 
little fingers (see Fig. 12). This will require three pairs and 
an odd card, or fifteen cards in all. Now take the two cards 
which are between the third and little fingers of his right hand, 
and lay them down on the table separately, side by side, at the 
same time saying, ^'that's one pair;" then take the next pair, 
separate the two cards, and lay one on each of the cards al- 
ready on the table, and say ''there's another pair." Follow 
exactly the same method with the remaining pairs, making the 
same remark with each, until only the odd card remains. This 
is to be placed on the left-hand pile of cards on the table. 

Having made up the two little piles of cards on the table 
nice and straight (so that the cards in each cannot be counted), 
ask any one in the company to name which pile contains the 



THE SECOND EVENING. 



31 



odd card. As you have put the odd card on the left-hand pile, 
that will be the one selected. You then lift that pile and 




Fig. 12. 

count out the eight cards that are in it into four pairs. Then 
lift the other pile and count out three pairs and an odd one 
over. 

As there are seven pairs of cards used, each pile must con- 
tain seven cards ; this fact is not apparent to the company if 
the trick be done neatly and quickly, and the odd card will, of 




Tig. 13. 



course, make an even number of cards in the pile to which it is 
added. In the cut (Fig. 1.3) the cards are represented as if 
they had been laid out into the two piles loosely ; this is done in 
order to explain how the seven cards come in each pile. 

Necromancy being in order, two of the party may proceed to 
puzzle the remainder of the company by the trick game of 



S3 WH4T SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

This, or That. 

The two who are in the secret agree, that when an object se- 
lected by the company is touched by the leader, he shall say, 
'4s it thatP' when other objects are touched, he says, ''is it 

Example : The accomplice leaves the room, and the leader 
requests the company to select any object that he is to guess 
when he returns. The company decide upon a vase of flowers, 
and the accomplice is recalled. 

Leader {touching each article as he names it). Is it this 
book? 

Ans. No. 

Leadeh. Is it this chair? 

A:n^s. No. 

Leadee. Is it this cushion? 

Aifs. No. 

Leader. Is it that vase of flowers? 

Ans. Yes. 

By altering the catchword whenever the aceomphce leaves 
the room, the company may be puzzled a long time. 

When they are tired of this, let the entire company join in a 
merry game, called 

The Miisenin. 

One of the party, Mr. Jones, suddenly jumping up, calls upon 
another by name. 

Mr. Jones. Mr. Coyle, did you know that I had just re- 
turned from a journey round the world? 

Me. Coyle. Ah, indeed ! 

Mr. Joistes. I have brought home a most wonderful collec- 
tion of curiosities, and being of a speculative turn, I am desirous 
of selling some of them. 

Mr. Coyle. Ah, yes! Well, suppose you let me see some. 

Mr. Jones. Here {throwing a light handkerchief over the. 



THE SECOND EVENING. 33 

face of a tall handsome gentleman) you may see a stuffed 
alligator from the banks of the Nile. All the curiosities that 
smile you may have very cheap, but I cannot part with those 
that retain their gravity. 
_ Mr. Coyle. That will suit me. 

Me. Joxes. This alligator {twitching off the handkerchief) 
is one of the most monstrous of his species. During our voyage 
home, while I endeavored to keep him alive, he devoured 
seventeen negro babies every day, and washed them down with 
nine gallons of the best Eau de Cologne. 

{Dense gravity on the part of the alligator.) 

Mr. Coyle. But what caused the death of the interesting 
specimen ? 

Mr. Joxes. My dear sir, the supply of babies gave out, and 
he endeavored to swallow the black cook whole. She stuck in 
his throat and choked him, though you would never guess it, to 
look at the size of his mouth. 

(^Rere the smiling alligator is sold to Mr. Coyle.) 

Mr. Jones. This specimen (throiving his handkerchief over 
a pretty blushing girl) is a little treasure of art I secured at 
great expense in Paris {removing the handkerchief). It is a 
casket of jewels. These brilliant diamonds {pointing to eyes) 
could never be replaced, if lost, and you never saw more beauti- 
ful twin rubies {pointing to lips) than these. 

{The young lady, smiling and blushing, is sold, and the hand- 
kerchief thrown over a grinning boy of seventeen.) 

This is a bottle of the celebrated Dr. Humbug's Panacea for 
all invalids of whatever age, country or condition. One dose 
has been known to entirely cure the most aggravated case of 
Amiability Fever {uncovering the noiv solemn countenance), and 
the taste, though slightly stimulating at first, is nothing after 
you are used to it. 

Mr. Coyle. Used to it ! I'd never get used to it. If I took 
it at all I should swallow it whole, like a pill. 



34 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

{The bottle of hitters, exploding, is sold. The next proved to 
he Eng, one of the Siamese twins. ) 

Vm not going to believe that; I can take in a good deal; but 
that's a sticker. 

Mr. Jones. Eeally ! that is too much ! I tell you, sir, 
THIS IS Eng, late of the Siamese twins. He has recently been 
separated from his brother. I am astonished, sir, that you have 
not heard of that wonderful operation. 

Me. Coyle. Humph ! {regarding Eng, who was a miracle of 
gravity, in the most critical manner.) It seems to me, though, 
youVe got the worse one of the pair. Get Chang for me, and 
it's a bargain. 

Mr. Jones. Impossible ! Chang is not separated yet ; only 
Eng would submit to the operation. 

{Eng was not proof against this last solemn sally, and, with a 
hearty laugh, was handed over to Mr. Coyle.) 

Next in order comes a pretty girl, who loses her gravity when 
compared to sugar candy, and smiles at the compliments upon 
her sweetness. A very solemn old gentleman will often remain 
unsold, his gravity proof against the combined wit of both 
seller and buyer. 

Curiosities from all countries may be introduced : An Egyp- 
tian mummy ; a chip from Cleopatra's needle ; a pair of bellows 
carried by Napoleon into Eussia to fan the flame of patriotism 
in his soldiers; a bottle of water from the source of the Nile, 
brought home by George Washington after his Arctic explora- 
tions ; Crossington washing the Delaware ; or any other non- 
sensical wonder that may pop into the imagination of the 
showman, or be suggested by the demands of his customer. 

After the merriment of the museum has subsided, there 
suddenly enters the room a strange being, who has been pre- 
pared while the company were engaged with other curiosities 
of the museum. It is not an easy matter to give this funny 
figure any distinctive name, but we propose to call it the 



TEE SECOND EVEMNa, 35 

IsTonclescript, or Flexible Giant. 

Fasten a large grotesque head to the end of a stick four or 
five feet long ; around the neck gather a skirt of black material, 
long enough to reach the ground when the end of the stick 
is extended at arm's length above the head of the operator in- 




•' u l 



Fig. 14. 



Fig. 15. 



eide, as seen in Fig. 15. The best material for the skirt is the 
common black muslin used for liningS; sufficiently coarse to 



36 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



allow the person inside to see through it ; its dimensions need 
not be more than about two and a half to three yards, or four 
breadths of the ordinary width of common lining. At about 
the height of the operator's knee fasten a hoop inside the skirt, 
to keep it from becoming entangled with his feet and legs; an- 
other hoop at- about the height of the neck will prevent his 
view from being obscured by the folds of the skirt. The lower 
hoop should be connected by four tapes to the operator's waist ; 
this will ensure him freedom of action in moving about the 
rooni. The various attitudes and movements which may be 
made with the giant are very amusing, if quietly and gracefully 





Fig. 16. 



riG. 17. 



performed. By lowering the figure-head and crouching down 
(see Fig, 16), and then gradually resuming an erect position and 
elevating the figure-head to the utmost, the figure will pass 
through all the stages of stature, from a dwarf to a giant. By 
swaying the head from side to side and inclining the body in 
the same direction, the figure will appear to rock and dance in 
tl^e most laughable manner (see Fig. 14). A graceful bow is 
a|so a very funny position, as will be seen in Fig. 18. A very 



3mE SECOND EVENING. 



37 



neat way for reducing the height for final exit through the door 
is eflfected by making a bow, and curving the head right through 
between the legs, the disengaged left hand being used to raise 
the skirt for its passage. This will cause the head to project 
behind in a most ludicrous position, as shown in Fig. 17. In 
all straight or curved movements the operator's body must as- 
sume the functions of a flexible stick, or a continuation, as it 




riG. 18. 



were, of the stick to which the figure-head is attached, avoid- 
ing all abrupt angles, and moving in graceful curves and with 
easy undulations. The length of the stick or cane used must 
be proportioned to the height of the apartment in which the 
exhibition is to take place ; in the spectacular drama of the 
** Black Crook," in which these figures were first introduced, 



38 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



the height of the stage allowed the giants to assume colossal 
proportions. 

This would have to be greatly modified to suit the hmits of 
a parlor, but the effects will stiJl be exceedingly amusing. If 
two or three figures be used at a time, one of the heads may be 
garnished with an old woman's frilled night-cap. 

Large grotesque heads can be obtained, ready-made for the 
purpose ; but where these cannot be had, a very funny large 
mask, such as may be found at any costumers, will answer the 
purpose, a head being made with rags to fill it up, the back 
part covered with curled horse-hair, or anything available, to 
represent a giant's head. When the nondescript has created a 
sufficient sensation, one of the party proposes to end the even- 
ing's amusements by a httle feat of magnetism, offering 



To Magnetize a Cane. 



This is a very surprising 
create much astonishment. 



little fancy, and is calculated to 




riG. 19. 



Take a piece of black silk thread or horse-hair, about two 
feet long, and fasten to each end of it bent hooks of a similar 



THE SECOND EVENING. 39 

color. When unobserved, fasten the hooks in the back part of 
your pantaloon legs, about two inches below the bend of the 
knee. Then borrow a cane, taking care to select one that is 
slender and of dark color -, place it within the inuer part of the 
thread, as represented in Fig. 19. By a slight, almost imper- 
ceptible movement of the legs, the cane can now be made to 
dance about and perform a great variety of fantastic move- 
ments. In the evening the thread will be entirely invisible, the 
performer being careful not to sit in too strong a light, and the 
cane has no apparent support whatever. The performer should 
inform the company, before commencing the trick, that he is 
obliged to magnetize the cane, and by making mesmeric passes 
he conceals the movements of his legs, by drawing attention to 
those of his hands. He can order the cane to sway to the right 
or left, at will, motioniug the cane with the appropriate hand ; 
or it may be commanded to make a bow to the audience, and 
other movements that the fancy of the operator may suggest ; 
provided only, that the execution of the movements should not 
require much motion of the legs, as this might afford a clue to 
the trick. 



40 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 



7hird ^venijmq. 



The guests being assembled for a third evening of hilarity, 
a pleasant game may be started, called 

Throwing Light, 

in which two players who have privately agreed upon the name 
of some article to be discovered by the rest, discuss the article 
without naming it ; expatiate upon its uses, merits and pecu- 
liarities, and in various ways throw light upon it, until some 
other player,, guessing it, joins the pair, and, without mention- 
ing it, helps them to throw light, until all but one unfortunate 
player are engaged in this new system of illumination. 

Of course each person playing is especially anxious not to be 
the solitary one '^left out in the dark," and it is equally the aim 
of those throwing light to do so in as perplexing a way as 
they can without being unfair. 

It is a privilege of the game, that the name of the article 
chosen may have two or more different meanings, as : plain, 
plane ; tale, tail ; stair, stare ; so that it is not difficult, with a 
little ingenuity, to mingle considerable mystery with the light. 
But, alas, for the luckless one who, under a /aZse impression that 
he or she has guessed it, ventures recklessly to throw light ! 
As soon as he betrays himself he is compelled to cover his face 
with a handkerchief, and cannot be uncovered until he is able 
to send veritable light from behind the veil. 

When a guess is made it must be whispered into the ear of 
the already-enlightened parties. 

Example : Mr. Jones and Miss Martin select mouth as the 
article in beginning the game. 



THE THIED EVENING, 41 

Me. Jones. My preference for the tirticle may be variously 
stated, but under the nose is a position of great benefit. 

Mrs. Smith. Oh, I know ! I like Lubin's best. 

Mr. Joxes. I must challenge you. Will you whisper yout 
guess in my ear ? 

Mrs. Smith {whispering). Perfume. Of course it is best 
under the nose. 

Mr. Jones. I regret to hide your charms [throtcs a hand- 
kerchief over Mrs. SmitWsface). 

Miss Martin. I prefer it with natural adornment, unpainted, 
unless framed. 

Mr. Lee. Alhgators frequently use one to swallow another. 

Mr. Jones. I must challenge you, sir. 

Mr. Lee {ivhisxjering). Where an alligator's mouth takes 
in a negro, don't it include the negro's mouth, too ? 

Mr. Jontis. Right ! 

Mrs. Curtis {having guessed right, throws light). The 
statue of Memnon has a beautiful specimen. 

Mr. Jones. So has the Mississippi river. 

Mr. Lee. But in one it is wide, in the other narrow. 

Mrs. GtRant. Oh, is it a mouth f 

All. Forfeit ! Tou did not whisper. 

While this game is in progress, a few of the classic scholars 
may retire, and introduce to the party 

The Centaur. 

The basis of this representation is very simple, consisting of 
two figures (men, of course) standing one behind the other, 
about half the height distant — the front figure standing erect, 
the other bending at the hips forward at nearly a right- angle, 
bringing the top of the head against the lower part of the back- 
bone of the first, the hands resting on his hips for support as 
well as disposal (see Fig. 20). A large piece of drapery is then 
thrown over the stooping figure, so as to conceal the body and 



42 



WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHTf 



limbs to the knee, and is brought round and fastened in front 
of the standing one just below the belt, and falling, conceals his 
legs also to the knee. Any kind of drapery will do, but a rich 
fabric, as a large shawl, or other article of apparel with either 
gay or sober rich color as a body, with a deep border or hand- 
some ornament, would be the most effective. A tail may be 
extemporized from strips of paper, cloth, or any other material 




Fig. 20. 



that is flexible and convenient, and fastened by pins to the 
cloth at the proper place (see Fig. 21). Nothing is now seen of 
the figures but a part of the lower limbs, and the upper part of 
the front one. For close resemblance, the trunk and arms of 
this one may be cased in a tiglit-fitting undershirt, flesh color 
of course the best, but an ordinary undergarment, such as is 
usually worn, would answer very well. For mixed company, to 
take off the baldness of apparent nudity, and for, perhaps, de- 
corum, a sash, robe, or short mantle, may be thrown over the 
left shoulder and fastened over the right, of some light fabric 
which would float or fly about freely with the motions of the 



THt: THIRD EVENING. 



43 



animal, and yet partially conceal the trunk. For ordinary pur- 
poses, however, any tight or snugiy-fitting garment, as a vest 
or jacket, would do, as it may be easily modified by some ap- 
pendage that would remove or disguise the familiar look of the 
article — even the shirt -sleeves may be worn to the wrist, or 
rolled up above the elbow, as- taste or circumstances may sug- 
gest — or a vest made of a large sheet of hght- tinted wrapping- 




FlG. 21. 



paper may be quickly got up, with arm-holes cut out, and the 
edges pinned together behind, like a dress-pattern, and marked 
to represent the armor, or any other costume. A quiver of 
arrows may be supplied from the property-room, or made easily 
out of stiff paper or cloth, and hung over the shoulder at the 
back. The hair, if long, may be brushed wildly about, or a 
helmet, turban, or hood, can easily be made from scarfs, hand- 
kerchiefs, or pasteboard, for the purpose of disguising the per- 
haps well-known features of the actor, or for picturesque effect. 
A bow or spear completes the equipment. 
This getting-up may, of course, be more or less elaborate, ac- 



44 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTt 

cording to circumstances, but the simplest form is very effective 
if well acted, and this is the principal part of the representation 
to make it amusing. The prancing, curveting, cantering, and 
the various attitudes assumed by the principal figure, shooting 
the arrow, throwing the spear, flinging the arms about, sway- 
ing the body, giving the various supposable characteristics of the 
subject, can, in good and intelh gent hands, be made very effect- 
ive and diverting. As the a,nimal represented is supposed to 
have been half human, the human part may be supposed to be 
able to talk, and give an account of itself, or utter ejaculations of 
fierceness, defiance, terror, etc. ; and one posted in mythologic- 
al lore can amuse and perhaps instruct the audience with some 
account of his race, lineage and history, or give any speech 
appropriate to the character. Very amusing scenes can be got 
up, by having two centaurs, more or less distinguished in the 
color and style of their make-up, who plunge at each other in 
mock combat, striking out their hoofs (or heels) front and rear ; 
or run a tilt with lances in tournament fashion. For this scene 
shields may be improvised from articles of domestic use, as a 
tea-tray or waiter, or other articles which may quickly be ad- 
justed by straps or strips of cloth so as to be carried on the 
arm, or may be got up more leisurely from pasteboard, tin, or 
other material, and, like all the other paraphernalia, more or 
less decorated and finished, according to circumstances. The 
position in this representation not being very constrained, the 
performance can be sustained for a considerable length of time 
without weariness, or an occasional rest can be taken to afford 
the rear figure a breathing-spell. 
A trick may now be introduced, called 

The Magic Handkercliief. 

The amateur juggler takes any handkerchief, and puts a 
quarter of a dollar or a dime into it. He then folds it up, lay- 
ing the four corners over the coin, so that it is entirely hidden 



THE THIRD EVENING. 



45 



by the last one. He then asks the company to touch and feel 
the coin inside. He then unfolds the handkerchief, and the coin 
has entirely disappeared. Apparently nobody has touched ot 
removed it, yet it is gone. 

The method is as follows : 

Take the coin, and privately put a piece of wax on one side 
of it; place it in the centre of the handkerchief with the waxed 
side up; at the same time bring the corner of the handkerchief, 
marked A (as represented in Fig. 22), over the coin, so as to 




completely hide the wax upon it. Now press the. coin very 
hard, so that the wax will adhere to both coin and handker- 
chief; then fold the corners, B, C, and D, till it resembles 
Fig. 23. 




Then fold the corners, B, C, and D (Fig. 23), leaving A open. 
Having done this, take hold of the handkerchief with both 
hands (as represented in Fig. 24) at the opening. A, and sliding 
along your fingers at the edge of the same, the handkerchief 
becomes unfolded, the coin adheres to it, coming into your 



46 WBAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGUTf 

right hand. Detach it, shake the handkerchief out, and the 
coin will have disappeared. 

To convince the audience that the coin is in the handkerchief, 
when it is completely folded drop it on the table, and it will 




Fig. 24. 

sound against the wood. When the conjurer sees that the com- 
pany are interested, he may explain in this way : 

*'It is all in the handkerchief. I bought this valuable square 
of linen from a Fakir of the East, who assured me that it pos- 
sessed magical qualities of the first order. It will tie 

A Magical Knot, 



This trick consists in simply tying one knot with two ends of 
a handkerchief, and, by apparently pulling the ends, untying 
them again. 

Take two ends of the handkerchief, one in each hand, the 
ends dropping from the inside of your hands. You simply tie 
a single knot, when your hands and your handkerchief will be 
in the position shown in Fig. 2.5. Instead of pulling the ends, 
C and D, grasp that part marked R with your thumb and 
forefinger, dropping the end D and pulling upon the end C 



THE THIRD EVENING. 47 

and thiB bend B, when, instead of really tying, you loosen the 

|j30t. 

This trick should be performed very rapidly to avoid detec- 
tion, but may be easily learned by a close examination of the 
illustration. 

B 




Pig. 25. 

The merits of variety being admitted, put your handkerchief 
into your pocket, and having formed a large circle of the com- 
pany, introduce to their notice the merry-making game of 

One Old Orang-Oiitang. 

Every one must now keep his memory on the alert, his face 
perfectly grave, and his ingenuity active, or prepare to pay an 
immense number of forfeits. The game commences by the first 
player stating that 

''One old orang-outang opened oysters oddly.'^ 

All must repeat this, one after the other. 

The player on the left of the first, then, after repeating the 
first phrase, adds : 

''Two turtle-doves took a train on Tuesday for Turkey." 

After this has passed around the circle, the third player, 
repeating both sentences, adds : 

" Three thriving thrushes threaded thistles on Thursday." 

It is better to have all the combinations original, but an 



48 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

example is given, supposing fifteen players. Every time, the 
sentence is made longer it must pass entirely around the circle 
of players till it returns to its starting-point, when the next 
player starts it again with a new addition. 

Every smile, every omission of a word, or variation from the 
test, costs a forfeit for the culprit, and the merriment is very 
great when the sentence becomes so long that nobody can 
remember the whole of it exactly. 

" One old orang-outang opened oysters oddly." 

Repeated by all, starting again : 

''One old orang-outang opened oysters oddly; two turtle- 
doves took a train on Tuesday for Turkey." 

Repeated by all, the third player sending round again, 
adding : 

*' Three thriving thrushes threaded thistles on Thursday." 

After all have tried this, the fourth player starts it afresh, 
adding : 

"Four foohsh frogs forgot fasting on Friday." 

Round again, and the fifth player adds : 

''Five flying-fishes finally fainted." 

Repeated by all, the sixth player adding : 

" Six slim sailors sailed for Sweden on Saturday." 

The seventh player adds : 

"Seven solemn soldiers shot Simon Snodgrass." 

If the eighth player can get through all this nonsense gi^avely, 
and without stumbling, he adds: 

"Eight educated emigrants eloped, eating eggs." 

The ninth player complicates afiairs still further, by adding 
the news that : 

"Nine nodding ninnies never nibbled nosegays." 

The tenth player gravely informs us, after all before said has 
gone round the circle, that : 

" Ten traveling tailors took tea at Tarry town." 

The eleventh, if his nimble tongue and retentive memory hold 
out against the foregoing ten tantalizing topics, adds : 



THE THIliD EVENING. 4» 

^' Eleven enterprising elephants easily entered Eastan.** • 

Tlie twelfth adds : 

''Twelve tipsv topers tumbled topsy-turvy." 

'^he thirteenth tells us that : 

"Thirteen thrifty thieves threatened Theopilus." 

The fourteenth adds: 

" Fourteen fearful foemen fomented a furore.'' 

And the fifteenth, that : 

"Fifteen feminine fiddlers fearlessly faced a Frenchman." 

All of which now falling upon the much-to-be-pitied circle, 
must pass around it in this shape, all smiles and omissions 
costing dreadful forfeits. 

" One old orang-outang opened oysters oddly; two turtle-doves 
took a train on Tuesday for Turkey ; three thriving thrushes 
threaded thistles on Thursday ; four foolish frogs forgot fast- 
ing on Friday ; five jSying-fishes finally fainted ; six slim sailors 
sailed for Sweden on Saturday; seven solemn soldiers shot 
Simon Snodgrass; eight educated emigrants eloped, eating 
eggs ; nine nodding ninnies never nibbled nosegays ; ten trav- 
eling tailors took tea at Tarrytown; eleven enterprising 
elephants easily entered Easton ; twelve tipsy topers tumbled 
topsy-turvy ; thirteen thrifty thieves threatened Theopilus ; 
fourteen fearful foemen fomented a furore, and fifteen feminine 
fiddlers fearlessly faced a Frenchman." 

Another form of the same game is to take the well-known 
Uursery-tale, 

The House that Jack huilt, 

and repeat this time-honored tradition in this form : 
The first player says : 
" This is the house that Jack built." 
The second one : 

"This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built." 
The third one continues the narration of the story ; 



50 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

^' This is the rat that eat the malt that lay in the house that 
Jack "built." 

Each fjlayer must now add to the house that Jack built : 
" This is the cat," etc.; '' this is the dog," etc. 

Each player makes an addition, until the wonderful story is 
completed, a smile or the omission of a word costing a forfeit. 

The Birds. 

is a somewhat similar game, but preferable on one account, that 
the difiSculties are shared by all, not left to fall upon the last 
player. The leader starts a sentence, which is repeated by each 
one in turn, until it has passed around the circle. Again it 
is sent round, with an addition by the leader, a third, fourth, 
fifth time, or as often as the gravity and memory of the circle 
will permit, or the pile of forfeits will allow. 

Example : — The leader says : ''A good fat hen." 

This is repeated by each player in turn. 

Leader. Two ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eepeated by each in turn. 

Leadeh. Three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eejjeated by each in turn, without a smile or the omission of 
a word, on pain of forfeit. 

Leader. Four plump partridges, three wild, geese, two 
ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eepeated by each in turn. 

Leader. Five pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, 
three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eepeated by each in turn. 

Leader. Six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, four 
plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eepeated by each in turn. 

Leader. Seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five 
pouting pigeons, four plump partridges, three wild geese, two 
ducks, and a good fat hen. 

Eepeated by each in turn, keeping sharp watch for forfeits. 



THE THIRD EVENING. 



51 



Leader. Eight screeching owls, seven green parrots, etc. 

Eepeated by each in turn, and if there be one of the circle who 
has not paid one or more forfeits, pass it round once more. 

Leader. Nine ugly turkey -buzzards, eight screeching owls, 
seven green parrots, six long-legged cranes, five pouting pigeons, 
four plump partridges, three wild geese, two ducks, and a good 
fat hen. 

When the company have redeemed the forfeits lost in these 
amusing combinations, continue the fun of the evening by a 

Musical Merry-go-round. 

This affords an excellent opportunity for one individual, 
who has a good clear voice, to add largely to the hilarity and 
and amusement of all present. It is conducted by a gentleman, 
who explains to the rest of the company that each will in turn 
be required to sing one complete verse of any song, himself 
volunteering to be the first, and the others to follow in the order 
in which they are seated. The conductor commences by sing- 
ing an introductory verse, as follows : 



m. 



:?=r: 



1=4= 



-f^— ^ =-^ 



:^=f= 



We all are in a ttmeful mood, And each, a vo - cal off-'ring bring; 



. 1— I 1 ^— ^ 9 1--^ -^ 1 gl- 

Who does not eing a for - feit pays, So let the next one sing. 

He then sings one verse of any song, sentimental or comic, as 
he may think most suitable. At the close, the whole company 
sing in chorus, under the direction of the conductor : 



g 






^ 



■S- 



« 



zU: 



J he 



Eight well sung, j g^^ j- has j {^^° j- du - ty hrave-ly done, 'Tis 



i 



g^^ 



^^ if\rt\\^ ixroll cm Tin* 



right well sung. We all are in a, &c. 



52 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



This leads to a repetition of the introductory verse, which is 
used as a refrain between each regular verse sung, the pause '^ 
being filled up by a single, simultaneous clap of the hands by all 
the company present. 

The next person must then sing a verse of his own selection, 
to be followed by the company in chorus, "Right well sung," etc., 
and the refrain, as before. Each member of the company should 
be ready to sing when his or her turn comes ; if, however, after 
a reasonable but short pause, any one should fail to "come to 
time," the conductor and whole company sing; 




After the forfeit has been decided upon by the conductor, the 
company sing, instead of " Eight well sung," etc., the following 
couplet: 



f 



Oh, dear me, 

A ^ 



pit - y 



a tempo. 



'tis-|sheH^'^-°ot 



Bing, 



^- 



fiel 



For "we all are in a, &o. 



followed by the refrain, as before. The word "Fie" should be 
given short and with a will, the second and third beats of the 
bar being filled up by the syllable "oh!" instead of clapping the 
hands, this latter being the reward of the successful vocalist. 
Under an efficient conductor, this pastime is very amusing, the 
company falling easily into the couplets and refrain after two or 
three verses have been sung. 

Supposing the evening to be by this time well advanced, send 
the guests to their several homes in a mystified condition, by 
the performance of a neat piece of legerdemain called 



THE THIRD EVENING. 63 

The Invisible Transfer. 

To perform this trick, provide four small pieces of cork, and 
two pocket-handkerchiefs or napkins. Fold the handkerchiefs 
each four times, so as to make them, say, six inches square. 
Place the corks upon a table, about a foot apart, so as to repre- 
sent the four angles of a square. Take up the napkins, one in 
each hand, the thumb on the top and the fingers underneath, 
as in Fig. 26 j lay the napkins down, one on each of the pieces 




Fia. 26. 

of cork furthest from you, still keeping hold of the napkinsw 
Secure the right-hand cork, which has just been covered, be- 
tween the first and second fingers of the right hand (see Fig. 
27). Withdraw the right hand, still holding the cork between 
the fingers, and leave the right napkin on the table, apparently 
covering the cork, where it remains undisturbed until the end 
of the trick. As you withdraw the fingers of the right hand, 



64 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



turn the napkin which is in the left hand over on to the palm 
of the right hand, and bring down the right thumb upon it. 
This action conceals the cork held between the fingers of the 
right hand and exposes the left cork, showing that there is still 
only one cork there (see Fig. 28). With a few appropriate 




Fig. 27. 

remarks, you lay down the napkin, which is now held in your 
right hand, upon the left-hand piece of cork, at the same time 
leaving under the napkin the cork hitherto held between your 
fingers. So far you have the two napkins on the table, nothing 
under the right-hand one, and two corks under the left ; and 
two corks laying near you exposed on the table. You now pick 




Tig. 28. 



up with your right hand the right-hand exposed cork, carry it 
under the table, and make believe to pass it through the table 
under the left-hand napkin. While doing this, manage to slip 
the cork between the ends of the fingers of the right hand, so 
as to hold it without the aid of the thumb. Take up the left- 
hand napkin with the left hand by the edge furthest from you, 
and the back of the hand upward j withdraw the right hand 



THE TRIED EVENING. 55 

from under the table, and, as the fingers begin to eliow above 
the edge of the table (see Fig. 29), draw the left napkin on to 
the palm of the right hand ; secure it with the right thumb and 
hold it ready for the next step in the operation. 

Ton have now the right napkin laying undisturbed where you 
first laid it ; the left napkin in your right hand, concealing a 
cork between your fingers ; and, when you lifted the left nap- 
kin, you disclosed two pieces of cork, one that was there at first, 
and another, apparently passed through the table. Next, cover 
these two corks with the napkin held in the right hand, and in 




Fig. 29. 

doing this, leave the third cork (till now concealed in the right 
hand) with the other two. Thus there will be three corks 
under the left napkin. 

Now pick up the fourth cork with the right hand and proceed 
as with the third cork, making believe to pass it through the 
table. When the left napkin is lifted it will disclose three 
pieces of cork, and when the napkin is laid down again with 
the right hand (as before) you leave the fourth cork with the 
others under the left napkin. 

You now utter some cabalistic words, calculated to make the 
cork, which is supposed (wrongly, of course) to be all the time 
und^^r the right napkin, pass from the right under the left nap- 
kin. Tou then raise the left-hand napkin, and disclose all four 
corks under it ; lastly, raise the right-hand napkin to show 
there is nothing under it. This is one of the easiest tricks to 
perform, and one of the best in its effects, if each of the move- 
ments involved be done neatly and quickly. 



56 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 



}^OUF(TH JJVEJMINQ. 



Once again, with lively recollections of the previous evening's 
fun, a merry party assembles in the parlor. The majority of 
those present have "assisted'' in the amusements of our former 
meetings ; they have consequently lots of remarks to make and 
pleasant recollections to recall, sandwiched in between mysterious 
hints about new sensations to be introduced. The merry laugh 
and quick repartee make observations about the weather flat, 
stale and unprofitable, thawing insensibly the frigidity of the 
new-comers, who are agreeably surprised to experience the, to 
them, new sensation of feeling entirely ''at home " within five 
minutes of their arrival at an evening party. Our indefatigable 
friend Jones started at once the game of the 

Musical ISTeiglibors. 

His success in the museum line had established entire confi- 
dence in his leadership ; he explained, therefore^ to willing ears 
and attentive listeners, the simple arrangements for the fun that 
was to follow. His first order, requiring one-half of the com- 
pany to be blindfolded, met with eager assent ; the only diffi- 
culty was, they all had their handkerchiefs ready at once, and 
it needed a little stretch of his assumed authority to settle this 
matter satisfactorily. 

''Now," said Jones, " we shall proceed to seat our blindfolded 
friends in such a way that there shall be a vacant chair at the 
right hand of each. Those who are not blindfolded will please 
stand in the centre of the room and make not the ghost of a sound. 
Those who are blindfolded are not to remove their bandages until 
they have won the right to do so. All must strictly obey the word 



THE FOURTH EVENINa. 57 

of command, and when requested to sing, the unbhndfolded may- 
comply in any assumed style they please, but sing they must. 
The blindfolded must not sing at all." 

Jones seated himself at the pianoforte and played a prodigious 
" chord. 

'^ All be seated!" he commanded. They obeyed in stealthy 
silence, each sitting beside one of the blindfolded. 

''Sing!" he shouted, commencing at the same instant to play 
the familiar air of ''Johnny Come Marching Home." 

A few grunts and timid squeaks were the only response. 

"Sing!" he repeated, playing with increased energy. Two or 
three voices struck up with startling distinctness; some put In a 
feeble note here and there as the humor prompted, and the rest 
laughed unreasonably. 

"This will never do!" cried our distracted manager, swinging 
round on the piano-stool. "Every one not blindfolded must not 
only sing, but must commence instantly on the word of com- 
mand." 

Our friend Jones struck a chord again: 

" Unbhndfolded, as you were, to the centre of the room !" 

Performed with alacrity. 

"Be seated!" 

Done, as silently as before, only more so. 

"Sing!" and "Johnny Come Marching Home" onco 

more. 

Such an unearthly chorus in X flat as went up to those tremb 
ling chandehers ! 

" Silence !" 

The din of voices instantly ceased. 

"Now, blind men and blind women, each name your right- 
hand neighbor." 

Some guessed rightly, more guessed wrongly, and of those 
who were wrong, nearly all triumphantly snatched off their 
handkerchief bandages, only to stare in blank astonishment at 
the laughing faces beside them. 



53 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

"Hold!" cried Jones, sternly, though he could scarcely be 
heard for the merriment. '^The blindfolded can be relieved 
only when they correctly give the name of their right-hand 
neighbor ; and then the bandage must be taken off only by that 
neighbor, who, in turn, must submit to be bandaged by the 
guesser and must take his place. This game amounts to noth- 
ing unless played according to rule. Shall we try it again I" 

''Tes, indeed!" cried everybody. 

This time all went admirably. The blindfolded sat in breath- 
less attention. At the first word of command, the unblindfolded 
crept stealthily as mice to their seats ; at the second, promptly 
opened their chorus; and at the third, eachoftheunblindfolded 
shouted the supposed name of his or her right-hand neighbor. 

It was, however, impossible to manage the bandages according 
to rule. In the enthusiasm of imagined success the guessers 
would snatch them off, in spite of all Jones could do. But each 
mistaken blind man or blind woman was at once committed back 
to darkness and mystery, only to be relieved when a successful 
guess enabled him or her to bandage some luckless singer as a 
substitute. 

It was strange how few of all the now familiar party could 
detect each other's poorly-disguised voice, but ofcourse that only 
added to the fun. 

Supposing the company to be ready for a more quiet amuse- 
ment, let some expert necromancer show the amusing trick of 

The Embarrassed Landlord. 

Select from a pack of cards the four aces, kings, queens, and 
knaves. Place a common card upon the table and call it a 
hotel, about which you propose to relate a little story, some- 
what in this style : 

"This Tavern is supposed to be of modest pretensions, hav- 
ing only four sleeping apartments. One soaking-wet evening 
there came to the tavern four workmen, who demanded 



THE FOURTH EVENtNa. 59 

lodgings for the night. The landlord, not expecting any more 
travelers, placed one of them in each of the four empty bed- 
rooms." 

Place the four knaves around the tavern, that is, one above, 
one below, and one on each side of the common card, face 
upward. 

^'The workmen had scarcely got settled in their rooms when 
four policemen came to the tavern and also desired accommoda- 
tion for the night. The landlord at once introduced a police- 
man into each of the rooms." 

Place an ace on each of the knaves, also face upward. 

''He had no dilEculty in making all parties satisfied with the 
arrangement. When he returned to the public-room he foimd 
four gentlemen waiting, who insisted on remaining over night. 
This disconcerted him very considerably; but, as there was no 
other way, he put a gentleman in each of the rooms and shut 
the doors." 

Place a king on each ace. 

"Soon after there came four ladies. Our landlord, at his 
wits' end, explained that the only four rooms he had were 
already occupied, each by three persons. As the ladies insisted, 
he introduced a lady into each room." 

Place a queen on each king. 

''Not a minute had elapsed when the four ladies came out of 
the rooms, protesting against this unnecessary mixing up of 
persons, and demanded that each class of persons be accommo- 
dated with a separate room, so that the four policemen would 
"be in one room, the workmen in another, the gentlemen in the 
third, and the ladies alone in the fourth. This the landlord 
proceeded to put into execution." 

Pick up each of the four piles of cards, lay them one on the 
other, let the audience cut — not shuffle — them as often as they 
please ; then lay them out one at a time around the hotel, face 
downward, so as to make four piles of four cards each, and 
each pile occupying the same position as before. 



60 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

'' He thus succeeded at once in arranging the parties as the 
ladies desired." 

Turn up each pile, and the four queens, the four kings, etc., 
will he found together. 

Before the company have ceased wondering how the cards 
•get so correctly assorted, notwithstanding the repeated cutting 
they underwent, ohtain a set of dominoes, and announce that 
you propose 

To Guess the Two Ends of a Line of 
Dominoes. 

Cause the dominoes to he shuffled together as much as any of 
the company may desire. You propose to leave the room in 
which the audience are assembled, and you assert that from 
your retreat, he it where it may, you can see, and will he able to 
tell, the two numbers forming the extremes of a line composed 
of the entire set, according to the rules established for matching 
one domino with another in the draw game. 

All the magic consists in taking up and carrying away, un- 
known to every one, one domino (not a double) taken at haz- 
ard ; for the two numbers on it must be the same as those on 
the ends of the row of dominoes. This experiment may be re- 
peated as often as you please, by taking each time a different 
domino, which, of course, changes the numbers to be guessed. 

While the attention of the company is engaged in trying to 
solve the last problem of skill, let a few of the initiated prepare 

The Irishnian''s Wake. 

It is necessary for the effective performance of this trick, to 
curtain off a portion of the drawing-room, while the supposed 
*' wake " is prepared. When the curtain is drawn, a long nar- 
row coffin draped in black is disclosed, and upon each side near 
the head stands a man. These men are fighting fiercely, each 



THE FOrilTR EVEKIXG. 



61 



apparently striving to annihilate the other's hat. They bang 
and batter each other for some moments, until they fall back 
exhausted upon the floor. After a moment one lifts his head very 
slowly and cautiously, sits up, and finally rises, and peeps over 
the cof&n to see the condition of his prostrate foe (see Fig. SO). 
In a second the other spriugs to his feet, and deals a fieree blow 
at the already much-abused hat. Again the contest is renewed, 
and the curtain is drawn amidst the laughter of the audience. 




riG. 30. 



The stage-manager explains, either before or after the per- 
formance, that the combatants are disappointed heirs, fighting 
over a relative's coffin about the terms of his will. 

Going behind the curtain, we find two chairs turned down, 
their backs uppermost, upon the floor (see Fig. 31), and under 
them a tall man, whose head touches the seat of one chair, and 
his feet the other. Upon each arm he has another man, made 
in this way : in each hand he holds a stick crosswise, to make 
shoulders upon which to hang a coat (a coat-stretcher would 



62 



WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



l)e the best), which completely covers the arm, and is buttoned 
tight to the throat. The four fingers firmly grasp the lining of 
a hat, the thumb reaching out to the edge of the rim, so as to 
get a firm hold. Thus the arms held out from the body appear 
like two men facing each other. The chairs are now covered 
with a large shawl, firmly pinned at the ends to the carpet. 

The dressed arms can now fight over the back of the chair 
which covers the man's head, and by appropriate movements a 




Fig. 31. 

most furious battle can rage, the hats especially crushing and 
striking each other. The exhaustion is perfectly represented 
by spreading out- the arms upon this floor. 

When it is decided who has the best of this furious encounter, 
drop the curtain, and while '^ removing the corpse," let the 
company try a game requiring the exercise of wit and ingenuity, 
called 



Planting. 



The leader starts the game by stating what he planted, and 
what it came up, the two articles having some humorous con- 
nection or punning meaning. 

The articles planted may be of any description, animal, veg- 
etable or mineral, but they must come up as plants of some kind. 



THE FOURTH EVENING. 63 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader. I planted my Shakspeare, and it came up Sweet 
William. 

First Player. I planted men and zvomen, and they came 
tip beans (beings). 

Second. I planted Mover, and he came up dog-tvood. 

Third. I planted a coqiiette, and she came up love-in-a- 
maze. 

Fourth. I planted a lattle, and there came up flags. 

FiETH. I planted a widoiv, and she came up iveeds. 

Sixth. I planted a/o^, and he came up dandelion. 

Seve:n'th. I planted Coney Island, and it came up heecli. 

Eighth. I planted a negro, and he came up tulips (two 
lips). 

NiXTH. I planted an English coin, and it came up penny 
royal. 

Texth. I planted a young fowl, and it came up chick-weed. 

Elevexth. I planted a fast young man, and he came up 
wild oats. 

Twelfth. I planted a cigar, and it came up ashe^. 

Thirteexth. I planted vain tvishes, and they came up sour 
grapes. 

Fourteexth. I planted charity, and it came up hearts-ease, 

FiFTEEXTH. I planted a kid, and it came up lady -slipper. 

SiXTEEXTH. I planted a clock, and it came up thyme. 

Sevexteexth. I planted a philosopher, and he came up 
sage. 

Eighteexth. I planted a defeated candidate, and he came 
up beet. 

Each one must exercise some ingenuity^ and one plant will 
suggest another, often giving occasion for much real wit and 
merriment. Compliments and sarcasms are often exchanged, 
and good-natured personalities indulged in. 

The necromancer of the evening can now add to his laurels 
by exhibiting the utterly incomprehensible trick called 



frl WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

The Clianged Dice-spots. 

Place two dice between the finger and thumb of the right 
hand, holding your hand before you with the knuckles up, as 
represented in the engraving. By moving the thumb toward 
you the dice will turn over, causing the spots first exposed to 
come under the first finger, and bringing into view the spots 
which were first concealed against the thumb; we will call this 
movement No. 1. Now, move the thumb back again to the 
position first assumed; this will turn the dice back again, and 
constitutes movement No. 2. 

To perform the trick, place the dice between your finger and 
thumb, as in Fig. 32, with (for example) the fw;o-spot of each 



ElG. 32. 

exposed in front of your hand, and show them to the company 
by turning your hand and arm to the right, keeping the 
knuckles upward. Next, sway your hand to the left, always 
with the knuckles up, and without moving the thumb, and they 
will of course see the two j'tz^e-spots. Again turn the hand to 
the right and the ^zco-spots will be seen as before. Now, turn 
the wrist, so as to bring the palm of the hand upward, at the 
same time executing movement No, 1, and, instead of the five- 
spots, two fours (for instance) will be brought into view. Again 
reverse the wrist, with movement No. 2, and the two-spots will 
again be shown, as before. 



THE FIFTH EVENING, 



]pIfTH ^V:EJMINq. 

Having assembled a pleasant party of fun-loving folks, for 
the fifth evening of social merriment, have it perfectly under- 
stood that each one must contribute a share to the evening's 
entertainment. Let nobody plead ignorance as an excuse for 
remaining idle, for five minutes will convey all necessary in- 
struction for the simple amusements suitable for an evening's 
diversion. 

Nothing, be it here observed, will so thoroughly mar the en- 
joyment of a social meeting, as a few damp blankets in the 
persons of people who won't play. Dignity, bashfulness, ill- 
nature or laziness, may any of them be at the bottom of a re- 
fusal to join in a merry game, but if you want to have a really 
''good time" request your guests to leave all such embarrassing 
sensations at home, and bring to your gatherings only good- 
nature, wit, and a desire to make every-body happy. 

This being thoroughly understood, open the evening with 

Tlie Blind Beggar. 

Let all the players seat themselves in a circle, excepting two, 
one of whom personates the blind beggar, and the other his 
guide. The guide, leading the beggar by the hand, asks three 
questions of each one of the circle, and in the answers, the 
words tvliite, Mack, yes and no, must not occur, as the speaker 
who uses any one of these four words pays a forfeit. 

EXAMPLE : 

GriDE. I have the care, madam, of a poor blind man, for 
whom I am soliciting charity. What will you give him ? 
Ans. An old coat. 



66 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Guide. What color is it ? 

Ans. Bright bkie. 
- Guide. That will not wear well. Can't you give him a 
black one ? 

Aifs. That is the only one I have. 

This player having escaped paying a forfeit, the guide goes 
to the next one. 

Guide. What will you give a poor blind man, too old to 
work ? 

Ans. I will give him a pair of gloves. 

Guide. Kid gloves "? 

A:n'S. No. Cotton. 

Guide. You said no ; please pay me a forfeit. 

Twice round the circle seldom fails to obtain a forfeit from 
each one, the guide trying so to contrive his questions as to 
betray the speaker into saying one of the four forbidden words. 

Another game of somewhat similar character is 

Garibaldi. 

The leader solicits a gift for Garibaldi from each one, first 
stating that ^' Garibaldi detests his ease." 

Each player must now make Garibaldi a gift, but must omit 
the letter e in his answer, or pay a forfeit. 
example: 

Leader. I am soliciting contributions for Garibaldi, who 
detests ease. What will you give him ? 

First Plater. A gun. 

Leader. What will you give him ? 

Second Player. A sword and belt. 

Leader. Pay a forfeit ; there is an e in belt. What will 
you give him ? 

Third Player. A military hat. 

Leader. What will you give him ? 

Fourth Player. A new red shirt. 



THE FIFTH EVENING. 67 

Leadee. Two forfeits; there is an e in new, and another 
one in red. What will you give him ? 

Fifth Player. A gun. 

Leader. Pay a forfeit; the same thiug must not be 
named twice, and he has already had a gun. What will you 
give him ? 

Sixth Player. A body of troops. 

And so on, every repetition and every e paying a forfeit. 

The ingenuity of some of the gentlemen may be exercised 
during the last game, by the construction of a new addition to 
the menagerie of our social circle. 

The Giraffe. 

This subject is composed of two figures standing one behind 
the other, the front one upright, or perhaps inclining slightly 
forward : the rear one bending forward at an angle of about 
forty-five degrees, his hands placed upon the shoulders of the 
front figure, and his head brought in contact with the upright 
performer's back, just below the shoulder-blades. The front 
figure, with his arms and hands as close to the sides and front 
of his body as possible, carries a stick or i^ple some four or five 
feet in length, holding it upright by the end, and inclining it a 
little forward, or about on a line with his own body. On the 
top of this (which serves as the skeleton of the neck of the 
animal represented), the head of the Giraffe is fastened, and in 
order to give side or lateral motion a cross-piece may be fast- 
ened to the pole four or five inches from the top, which, running 
lengthwise with the head, will give this motion by twisting the 
pole in the hands of the holder (see Fig. 33). 

The head may, of course, be got up with more or less care, 
according to circumstances — from the carefully-elaborated pro- 
duction of a day's effort, shaped and painted accordingto the best 
zoological resemblance, to a sheet of brown paper cut and twisted 
Into a kind of rough likeness of the animal. A grocer's paper 



68 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



bag may easily be wrought into a tolerable resemblance by a 
little trimming with the scissors^ and fastening with pins or 
thread ; some holes cut out for the eyes, and the nostrils and 
mouth the same, or marked with ink or water-color; the ears 
and horns are small pieces of paper twisted or folded into shape, 
and fastened on with pins ; the whole marked with ink or water- 
color to imitate the spots of the animal. The head thus made 




Fig. 33. 



may be stuffed with cotton or thin paper to stiffen it a little 
and hold out its shape, while the rod and cross-piece, when 
inserted, materially assist this result. Over the top of the 
pole the end of a piece of cloth (something of a brownish color 
with a large spotted pattern, would be best as resembling the 
color and markings of the animal ; but almost any chintz pat- 
tern would answer) is placed and the head put on over it, com- 



THE FIFTH EVENING, 69 

pressing the drapery to the form and size of the throat. The 
drapery then descends, enveloping the stick loosely, being nar- 
row at the top or throat, and spreading or enlarging as it 
descends, so as to cover the heads, arms and bodies of the two 
figures, about to the knees. A strmg or narrow band may then 
be tied loosely around the whole at the neck and shoulders of 
the front figure, thus gathering the drapery to complete the 
neck of the giraffe and give the swell to the foreshoulders of 




Fig. 34. 

the animal i the rest of the drapery may be left loose as in the 
casetjf the Centaur (see page 43), or be gathered between the 
legs and under the space between the two figures, and fastened 
with pins, as represented in Fig. 34. In this case a little stuff- 
ing would be useful in filling and rounding out the sides and 



70 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

stomacli of the giraffe. A tail is easily made and fastened, and 
requires no special instruction. Tlius completed, nothing is 
visible of the performers but their legs. Two persons with the 
longest endowments as to legs, and wearing tight-fitting panta- 
loons of a drab or fawn color, would make the resemblance 
very complete ; or the pantaloons may be removed and tight- 
fitting drawers be the only covering of the lower limbs. But 
even with ordinary costume, if the upper part is got up well 
those deficiencies will be easily overlooked, and if the charac- 
teristics of the animal are well given it cannot fail to be 
amusing, while the positions of the actors are so easy that the 
representation can be long sustained without fatigue. As, 
however, the heads of both figures are covered, it would be 
well if the drapery were of some thin fabric, so that it would 
not obstruct the breathing, and give more or less light to enable 
the principal figure to move about freely. In any case a keeper 
or guide would be a valuable adjunct, who might, while the 
animal is moving about or examining the high objects in 
the room, entertain and instruct the audience with the nat- 
ural history of the creature, or show off his paces in the most 
amusing manner he can think of. 

The long-necked animal having made his parting bow to the 
company, a clever trick may be performed, which will occasion 
much wonder and merriment if neatly executed. 

A lady might easily learn it, but, as needlework seems to be 
the special province of the gentle sex, the trick is more absurd 
when manipulated by a gentleman performer. 

The I^eedle and Thread Trick. 

A piece of calico, woolen or linen, or even a pocket-handker--- 
chief, is taken in the left hand, a needle is threaded in the usual 
manner before the company, and a knot, even a double or treble 
knot, is made at the extremity of one of the ends. The operator 
then proceeds to sew by drawing the needle and thread quite 



( 

THE FIFTH EVENING. 71 

through the fabric in his left hand, continuing to malie several 
stitches in like manner successively. 

The method of performing this seeming wonder is as follows : 
A piece of thread eight or nine inches long is turned once 
round the top of the middle finger of the right hand, upon which 
a thimble is then placed to keep it secure, as shown in the illus- 
tration. 

This must be done secretly, before the trick is commenced, 




Tig. 35. 

and the thread must be kept concealed while the needle is 
threaded with, a piece of thread of similar length and appearance. 
The thread in the needle must have one of its ends drawn up 
nearly close, and be concealed between the forefinger and thumb; 
the other should hang down nearly as long as, and by the side 
of, the thread which is fastened under the thimble so that these 
two may api^ear to be the two ends of the thread actually in the 
needle. 

The end of the thread that is fastened under the thimble is 
then knotted, and the performer begins to sew by moving his 
hand quickly after he has taken up the stitch. It will appear as 
if he actually passed the clumsy conspicuous knot through and 
through the cloth. 

Mary's Lamb. 

One of the most ludicrous combinations imaginable, is setting 
the words of some nursery-rhyme to a popt^lar patriotic air, and 
singing it in trio or quartette parts, introduciug the chorus of 



72 



we: AT SB: ALL WE DO TO-NIGH Tf 



the song, and sufficient of the original words, to make absurd 
combinations. 

EXAMPLE : 

Air: '' The Battle-cry of Freedom.''^ 

This tune is remarkably well adapted for the arrangement of 
almost any nursery-rhyme, with but little alteration. 



Oh, Ma-ry had. a lit- tie lamb, Its fleece was white as snow, 




Shout-iBg the bat - tie- cry of free - dom. And ev-ery-where that Ma-ry 



^ went The lamb was sure to go, Shout-ing the bat- tie - cry of free - dom. 
M Choktjs. _ 



i 



t=^ 



-m^p^. 



'^^^^^M 



The U - nion for ev-er, hur-rah, boys, hur-rah! Down with the 






trai-tor, up with the star ; And ev - ery-where that Mary went The 



^^^^^^^^^^ 



lamb was sure to go, Shout-ing the bat -tie -cry of free -dom. 



SECOND VERSE. 

It followed her to school one day, which was against the rule, 

Shouting the battle-ciy of freedom ! 
It made the children laugh and play, to see a lamb in school, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Choeus: — The Union forever; hurrah, boys, hurrah! 
Down with the traitor, up with the star. 
It made the children laugh and play, to see a lamb irr school, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 



TRE FIFTH EVENING. 73 

THIED VEESE. 

And 60 the teacher turned him out, but still he lingered near, 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. ! 
And nibbled all the grass about, till Mary did appear, 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom! 
Chorus:— The IJnion forever; hurrah, boys, hurrah ! 
Down with the traitor, and up with the star. 
And nibbled all the grass about, till Mary did appear, 
Shoutiag the battle-cry of freedom ! 

FOTTETH YEESE. 

" What makes the lamb loye Mary so ?" the little children cry, 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
" "Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know," the teacher did reply, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Chobus .-—The Union forever ; hurrah, boys, hurrah 1 
Down with the traitor, and up with the star. 
"Why, Mary loves the lamb, you know," the teacher did reply, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 

EIETH YEESE. 

Jack and Jill went up the hill, to get a pail of water, 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Jack feU down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Chorus : — The TJnion forever ; hurrah, boys, hun-ah ! 

Down with the traitor, up with the star. [after. 

Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 

SIXTH YEESE. 
Sing a song a sixpence, a pocket full of rye. 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Four and twenty black birds baked in a pie. 

Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 
Chorus:— The Union forever ; hurrah, boys, hurrah! 
Down with the traitor, up with the star. 
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 

When the company have shouted themselves hoarse, puzzle as 
many as possible by the amusing catch-game of 



74 WRAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTJ 

Eight is Wrong. 

The simplest thing in the world to do^ and yet not often done 
rightly ! Commence by standing exactly opposite a person and 
gravely informing him that he cannot imitate you in actions of 
the simplest description without making mistakes. To show 
how easy the movements are, you may go through them as 
follows : Hold your left arm well forward, with the extended 
forefinger draw an imaginary circle around your face, accompa- 
nying the action with the words, 'Hhe moon is round ;" next, 
point to each of your eyes in succession, saying, ''two eyes;'' 
then touching the point of your nose, say, '' a nose ;" and lastly, 
point to your mouth with the words, ''and a mouth." You 
now assert to the person opposite you that he cannot go 
through the same routine without a mistake. Unless he is 
naturally " left-handed,'^ he is almost certain to perform the 
action with his right hand, which, of course, will warrant your 
telling him that it is all wrong ; and he may repeat it many 
times over without discovering in what the error exists; in fact, 
he will fail to see that "right" is "wrong." If, however, he 
should use his left hand, you may say " now, try again; and this 
time watch the motions very closely," repeating the motions with 
your right hand. His left-handed imitation will then fail, be- 
cause " it was the only way which was left." 



TMU SIXTH EVENING. 75 



^IXTH JJv^JMlJMQ. 



Again the lovers of fun having assembled, the hostess has 
her ingenuity taxed to prevent those ill-concealed yawns, those 
stealthy glances at the watch, or the polite forced smiles, that 
assure her the demon of weariness is visiting her brilliantly- 
lighted parlors. . To prevent the fiend from even a sly peep 
inside the doors, she must exert all her skill, and by way of 
breaking the first tiny coating of ice that may follow the first 
meeting of her friends, let her start them into animation by a 
game of 

Musical Surprise. 

Clear the centre of the room, and having counted your 
guests, place two rows of chairs, back to back, the length of the 
apartment, having two chairs less than the number of players. 
Request one of the party, who is a good performer, to take a 
seat at the piano and play some merry tune, as ''Virginia Eeel,'' 
or "Yankee Doodle." The remainder of the company, one 
more than the chairs in number, join hands and dance in a cir- 
cle round the chairs, keeping time to the music. 

Suddenly, always in an unexpected place, the pianist stops 
playing. Every one must then try to get a seat, and, as the 
players exceed the chairs in number, one will be left out. This 
one now requests the company to rise, takes a chair from the 
row, and sits down outside the circle of dancers. The music 
and dance are resumed as before, again losing one player and 
one chair when the music ceases. 

Continue until all are out of the game excepting one, who 
will have the privilege of claiming a forfeit from each of the 
players who were unsuccessful in securing a seat. 



7(5 



WHAT SHAZL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



While this game is in progress, let two of the gentlemen have 
everything ready to perform the following extraordinary trans- 
formation-tricks : 

One of them, addressing the players, resting after the fatigue 
of the last game, says: 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you may not be aware that in my 
medical researches in Paris I learned the wonderful art of com- 
pressing and elongating the human figure, and can, by a, simple 
and painless process, reduce a man of six feet to three feet in 
height, or lengthen one of five feet to seven or eight feet in 
height. Incredulity is mirrored upon your faces. Mr. W., you 
are a tall man about my own height, I should judge. Would 
you have any objection to taking the character of. 

The ComxDressed Man. 



for the amusement of the company f 
Me. W. Will you inform me what I am to do ? 




Fig. 36. 



Leader. Merely to allow me to throw you into a deep 



THE SIXTH EVENING. 



77 



trance, by means of mesmerism and a little diablerie. I will 
then squeeze you down to a height of three feet, and exhibit 
you to the audience, restoring you to your proper proportions 
before you are awakened. I must request, however, the most 
perfect silence in the room, as a sudden awakening would re- 
mit in leaving you compressed for the rest of your material ex- 
istence. 

Mr. W., consenting to the operation, is led into an adjoining 
room, from whence proceeds a sound of sawing, a few groans, 
and a perfume like sulphur or burning matches. 

When the company are all on the qui vive, the compressed 




riG. 37. 



man is slowly borne into the room (as seen in Fig. 36), a perfect 
dwarf. 

If we follow the bearers of this compressed man into the 
dressing-room, we shall find the supernatural operation fully 
explained. 

Mr. W. and another gentleman of the same height have put 
upon their shoulders two horizontal bars, their heads coming 



78 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

up between. A cradle- pillow being put under Mr. Ws head, 
he rests upon it with his eyes closed. Stretching out his arms 
upon the bars, a pair of boots are put upon them, and a pillow 
placed under Mr. Ws chin and down to his new legs. Over 
this is thrown a cradle- quilt, and the heels of the boots are 
made to rest upon the foremost gentleman's shoulders. The 
illustration (Fig. 37) will show the method of compression. 

While Mr. W. is being restored to his proper allowance of 
feet and inches, a short man is persuaded to enter the dressing- 
room, for the purpose of bemg agam presented to the company as 

The Elongated Man. 

The same noises, the same perfume, are followed by the ap- 
pearance of the gentleman, apparently about nine feet high, and 
carried as before in a deep trance, upon the shoulders of two men. 

The arrangement of this figure is the same as before, longer 
bars being used, larger quilts required for covering, and the 
boots being tied upon the bars to rest upon the foremost man's 
shoulders, while the head, as before, appears at the other end 
of the bars. 

It is necessary in both cases to have the performers of exactly 
the same height. 

While this wonderful dwarf-and-giant-in-one is being restored 
to his normal proportions, the remainder of the company may 
start a pleasant game in which the children can take part, 
called 

Traveling Alphabetically. 

The players should be seated in a circle, and a leader chosen 
who asks the questions. 

The answers must be given in regular alphabetical order, and 
should be original, and may be humorous if the spirit of fun 
moves the party speaking. 



THE SIXTH EVENINa, 79 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader. Ladies and gentlemen, you are all invited to make 
a journey to any part of the world you may prefer, and tell me 
your mission ; but you must name your destinations and 
errands in the order of the alphabet. 

Miss A., where are you going ? 

A:ns. To Alexandria. 

Leadee. What will you do there ? 

Ans. Apply for Amusing Anecdotes. 

^' I am going to Baltimore," says the next. 

Leader. What will you do there ? 

Aks. Bake Bacon and Beans. 

Each one is asked in turn by the leader, '^ Where are you 
going?" and '^ What will you do there?" 

C — goes to Constantinople to Call for Citron. 

D — to Danforth to Dress, Dine and Dance. 

E— to Europe to Eagerly Enjoy Everything. 

F — to Flanders to Fish for Flounders. 

G — to Greenpoint to Garden and Groan. 

H — to Hazlehurst to Hunt Hopping Hares. 

I — to Ireland to Imitate Irishmen. 

J — to Jersey to Join in a Jubilee. 

K — to Kensington to Keep Kittens Kindly. 

L — ^to Louisville to Love Loyally. 

M — to Maryland to Marry a Musician. 

N — to Newton to Nod Nervously. 

— to Ottawa to Own Outrageous Onions. 

P — to Paterson to Patronize Pastry. 

Q — to Queenstown to Quarrel Queerly. 

R — to Rahway to Rove and Roam. 

S — ^to Slam to Sell Seven Shawls. 

T— to Toronto to Tell Tedious Tales. 

U — to Uruguay to Upset a Usurper. 

V — to Vienna to Vex a Vixen. 

W — to Waterloo to Weep and Wail. 



80 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

Y — to Yarmouth to Yawn. 
Z — to Zante to Zig-zag Zealously. 

When the alphabet has been round two or three times, a clever 
trick may be performed with a pack of cards, called 

The Interrupted Housebreakers. 

This trick is performed in a similar manner to the ''Embar- 
rassed Landlord" (given on page 58), and is dependent upon the 
same principles, but, as it employs the entire pack of cards, its 
effect is still more surprising. From a pack of fifty-two cards 
select the four aces, the four kings, etc., down to the four twos. 

Then inform the company that ''here are four houses (laying 
down the four aces separately), which four knaves enter for the 
purpose of robbing (laying a knave upon each ace), and take with 
them their implements for housebreaking (and upon each of the 
knaves you lay a two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight). 
The mistresses of the houses come home (laying a queen upon 
each of the heaps), bringing their money with them (laying a 
nine upon each queen). Shortly after, their husbands also return 
(laying a king upon each nine), also bringing money with them 
(lay a ten upon each heap.) " 

You have now disposed of all the cards, which form four dis- 
tinct heaps. Then lay one heap over the other, and let as 
many persons cut them as please. 

" The arrival of- the husbands had the effect of driving the bur- 
glars out of the houses ; the noise they made in dropping their im- 
plements brought out the husbands and wives, who in their hurry 
also dropped their money (while you are saying this, arrange the 
cards into thirteen heaps, of four each, putting one card at a time 
to each of the heaps in rotation, and face upward; each heap 
will then contain the four cards of the same denomination, the 
four aces, the four kings, and so on). Thus you see the four 
houses are empty (pick up the four aces) ; the burglars (the four 
knaves) are all together j the husbands (the kings) are here; their 



THE SIXTH EVENING. 81 

money (the four tens) is here; the ladies (the queens) are here; 
their money (the nines) is also here ; and (throwing the remain- 
ing cards together) the tools are here just as they were thrown 
away by the terrified burglars. " 

The conjurer, having the '^ floor," may still further perplex his 
audience by another clever feat of skill, called 

Telling the Dice Unseen. 

This trick is performed with an ordinary dice-box and three 
dice. Place the dice and box on a table, and request one of the 
company to throw the dice. While he is doing this your back 
must be turned to the table, so that it is evident to all that you 
cannot see what he throws ; tell him to remember carefully how 
many spots he has thrown ; then, reaching back with your hand, 
but without turning round, pick up one of the dice, turn up the 
side of it which was on the table, and tell the person who threw 
the dice to add that to the number he threw ; now tell him to 
put the die, which you hold in your hand, into the box and throw 
it again, and add that also to his count. You now turn round, 
count the uppermost spots on the dice as they lay, add seven, 
and announce the sum, which will exactly tally with the count 
made by the person who threw the dice. 

EXAMPLE : 

We will suppose the first throw to consist of five, four and one, 
together ten ; you pick up the four and turn the bottom up, 
which is three, this makes the count thirteen ; this die is again 
thrown and turns up a six, making nineteen in all. On turning 
round, you see on the table, five, one and six; that is, twelve spots. 
Add seven to twelve, and the result is also nineteen. 

This is a good trick, and depends solely on the fact that the 
spots on the two opposite sides of a die always count seven. It 
may be varied, to avoid repetition of the same thing, by picking 
up two dice instead of one, causing the spots on the under side 



82 WHAT SHALL WU DO TO-NIGHT? 

of both to be added to the amount of the first throw, and then 
both thrown again, only that you privately add fourteen, in place 
of seven, to the dice on the table. The bottom sides of all three 
may even be shown and all thrown again, and a correct result 
will be obtained by adding twenty-one to the last throw. 

The effect of this apparent marvel of ^^ second sight" may be 
still more increased by using five or six, or more, dice instead 
of three. The method of procedure is precisely the same, aa 
you have to add, for every die that you pick up, seven points 
to the spots exposed on the dice when you finally look at them. 

EXAMPLE : 

Suppose six dice have been thrown on the table behind you. 
The throw consists of six, three, two, six, five, four; altogether, 
twenty-six. You pick up, say, the six, five and four, and ex- 
pose their underneath spots (one, two and three) to be added 
to the count. These added to the original twenty-six make 
thirty -two. You now give these three dice to be thrown again, 
say, four, two, six; making a total of forty-four. On turning 
toward the table you see six, three, two, four, two and six; 
together twenty-three. Add twenty-one {three sevens, or one 
seven for each die picked up), and you declare the total to be 
forty-four. 



THE SEVENTH EVENING, 83 



^EVENTH J)VE)M1JMQ. 



The early part of a social evening is apt to drag, especially 
during the interval between the arrival of a few punctual 
guests and the majority of those invited, who come an hour or 
so later. It is hke the half-hour before the bell rings at a 
dinner-party, when every-body is in the anxiety of waiting. 

It is well in this interval for the hostess to have some amuse- 
ment started suitable for a small number of guests, and which 
will allow that easy chat and comparison of opinions not always 
practicable in a larger company. 

One of these is the 

Hat Measurement. 

After leading the conversation skillfully to the subject of op- 
tical illusions, remark, that very few people are aware of the 
actual height of the crown of an ordinary high silk hat. A 
hearty laugh may he raised by testing it in this way : 




Fig. 38. 

Ask a person; or several persons, to point out with a finger or 



84 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

walking-cane, on a wall, above a table, about what he supposes 
to be the height of an ordinary hat. You will find he will 
place his mark about a foot abo^e the table. Place the hat 
under it, and lie will find, to his surprise, that the space indi- 
cat,ed is more than double the height of the hat. An inch is 
said to be a considerable addition to a man's nose, but no one 
would realize, without testing it, what a material difference it 
would make if added to a man's hat. 

The height of a common flour-barrel is just the length of a 
horse's face, and much merriment may be made by asking the 
company to mark their idea of the height of a flour-barrel upon 
the wall. In nine cases out of ten the mark will be several 
inches, or even a foot, too high. 

The company having had an opportunity to gather in greater 
number, there is probably sufi&cient for the very pretty game of 

Insects and Flo^v^ers, 

which offers occasion for the interchange of compliments, as 
well as the exercise of wit, fluency, and narrative. 

The players divide, and sit in a circle, or in two rows facing 
each other; the gentlemen being together on one side, the ladies 
on the other. 

Each gentleman must select an insect which he is to person- 
ate, as a wasp, a bee, a gnat, a fly, a hornet, mosquito, or other 
bothering buzzer. 

The ladies each select a flower, as a rose, a violet, a pink, a 
pansy, or any other favorite of the garden. 

One of the gentlemen selecting a butterfly must commence to 
recite an original story, the continuation of which forms the 
game. 

Whenever any of the narrators mention the gardener, the 
insects shield their faces with their hands as if in fear, while 
the flowers extend their arms as if welcoming him. 

When the watering-pot is named, the flowers stand up for a 



THE SEVENTH EVENING . 85 

moment as if refreshed, while the insects kneel down as if 
crushed. 

When the sun is mentioned, all rise and clap their hands 
three times, as if pleased. 

As soon as an insect or a flower is named in the story, he or 
she must instantly continue the narration. 

No flower or insect must be called upon twice in the same 
story. 

Forfeits are paid, if any of the gestures are forgotten in their 
proper places, for any failure to answer to the assumed name, 
or for calling upon the same insect or flower who has already 
spoken. 

EXAMPLE : 

Butterfly. How charmed I am that summer has returned, 
when I can again display my beautiful wings in the sun {all 
rise and clap their hands three times), and flit from flower to 
flower, enjoying their beauty and sweetness. I wonder if dur- 
ing the long winter I have been forgotten by the exquisite 
white Lily. 

Lilt. Did I not hear my name called ? I must have im- 
agined it; unless, iodeed, I was mentioned by that odious 
Caterpillar. 

CaterpillaPv. You may scorn me now, haughty flower, but 
remember that the brilliant insect who spoke your name was 
but lately a humble worm like myself. I have not many friends 
in the garden. The gardener {ladies extend their arms in ivel- 
come, gentlemen hide their faces in fear) spends hours trying to 
drive me and my brothers from his flowers; and yet, did they 
but guess the devotion I feel for the beautiful Rose — 

Rose. How, sir! Do you dare to speak of devotion to me, 
when the whole garden knows I am the betrothed bride of the 
Honey-bee — 

HoifEY-BEE. Really, I shall have to call that fellow out, 
when my wings are dry. They were drenched this morning, 
for when I was asleep the gardener {ladies extend their arms 



86 WSAT SHALL WE DO T0-NIGHT9 

in welcome, gentlemen hide their faces in fear) came upon me 
suddenly with his watering-pot {ladies stand and gentlemen 
kneel for a moment, tvhen all resume their seats). I must not 
let my betrothed know that I was flirting a little to-day with 
the Violet — 

Violet. Was there ever such a vile slander! I never flirted 
in all my life ! I appeal to my friend the Wasp — 

Wasp. Who will certainly bear testimony to your disinclina- 
tion to flirt. If the honorable member wishes for a flirtation I 
would refer him to that saucy httle coquette, the Pansy — 

Pansy. Really, sir, your candor exceeds your pohteness. 
Do you for an instant imagine one of royal descent would con- 
descend to coquette? Mark my golden crown, my royal purple 
robes, if you doubt my claim to kinship with the aristocracy. 
But your sting is proverbial, and I shall appeal for protection 
to the valiant Hornet — 

Hornet. Who comes at your call, gorgeous flower. How! 
are we to be insulted by plebeians, we of the nobility ? Let me 
but say farewell to my fair betrothed, the Camelia — 

Camelia. Who will never keep you from the field of honor. 

And so the story passes from one to another, until each has 
contributed a share. If the forfeits are not too numerous, or 
the players are interested, let another Butterfly commence 
again. 

While this game is in progress, a few of the ingenious gentle- 
men, mysteriously vanishing, prepare 

The Wonderful Giant, 

who is announced by the showman as he enters. 

Showman. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most marvel- 
ous production of Nature ever produced in this or any other 
country. This wonderfully-tall and superbly-proportioned 
member of the human family is but nine years old, measures 
ten feet in height and has a moustache three feet from end to 



THE SEVENTH EVENING. 



87 



end, wbich he ties at the back of his head when he eats his 
daily repast of eleven pounds of fresh beef, two dozen eggs, one 
bushel of potatoes, two gallons of strong coffee, and any httle 
side-dishes, such as half a dozen chickens, three or four lobsters, 
or such trifles as it may be convenient to procure. He is, you 
will allow, rather an expensive boarder, and troublesome on 
account of the necessity for elongated bedsteads and high 




riG. 39. 



chairs, but as a curiosity he cannot be surpassed. He is quite 
good-natured, and will answer any questions you may wish to 
put to him. His name is Johnny Tenphooter. 

Johnny, how old are you ? 

JoHNNT {in a squeaky voice). Nine years, fourteen months, 
sixty-five weeks and three hundred and eighty-one days. 



83 



WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



Showman. How long have you been in this country ? 

Johnny. Twenty-one years. 

Showman. What is your native country ? 

Johnny. I was horn in Eussia^ emigrated at an early age 
to Jersey, was raised in Canada, and grew up in Hindostan. 

Showman. Grew up, I think you said. 

Johnny. Yes. I am still growing the same way. I expect 
to be quite tall when I come to my full growth. 




Fig. 40. 



Showman. H'm ! Yes. Any lady or gentleman like to tall? 
to the giant ? 

A smart boy for the giant's head and shoulders will make 
considerable merriment by absurd answers to even the most 
common-place questions. The giant is easy to produce in any 
family where there is a tall man capable of steadily carrying a 
small boy on his shoulders. 



THE SEVENTH EVENING 



8$ 



The boy being in position, and having been ornamented 
with an immense false moustache, a hat is put on his head and 
a very long cloak on his shoulders. The very best of giants^ 
cloaks is the water-proof circular of a very tall lady, and a 
deep cape is important. Give the monster a cane to suit his 
height, and you have. him as represented in Fig. 40, where he 
is shown without his cloak. 

The legs are the most trying ordeal, as any attempt to get a 
breath of fresh air will surely result in spoiling the giant. 

A military cloak and tall military hat with a feather are very 
imposing additions to this family of giants, and stripes upon the 
trousers will add materially to the appearance of great height. 

The giant having retired in order to rest and draw a long 
breath, a few of the company, who have previously practiced 
the song, take a position, solemnly and with dolorous faces, at 
one end of the room, and sing : 

The Emperor of Austria. 

The great requisites for this funny performance are, some 
knowledge of music and the keeping of perfect time. 

The tune should be monotonous, but well accented, and the 
song consists of the repetition, four times, of one line, as follows : 



The Em-peror of Aus - tria had a hun-dred thousand men, TEe 






-^ IP- p- ^ ^ ■ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Em - peror of Aus - tria had a hun-dred thou-sand men, The 



Em - peror of Aua - tria had 



hun-dred thou-sand men, 



"he 



^ 



3|>e 



^ 



Em-peror of Aus -tria had a hun-dred thou-sand men. 



90 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT f 

The second time the four lines are sung, the first word is 
omitted in the first three lines, the fourth line being given 
entire. 

The third time, the first two words are omitted in three lines, 
still singing the whole of the fourth. 

In this way the song proceeds, dropping word after word in 
the first three lines, but always singing the fourth line entire, 
till the whole of the time for three lines is dead silence, the 
fourth line being sung in its proper time. 

The following is the song, all the words in italics being silent, 
but the audible ones coming upon the note and at the time 
they would if all were sung. The slightest error of time ruins 
the effect entirely. 

1st Time. — The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men. 

2nd Time. — The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men. 

3rd Time. — The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred tliousand men. 

4th Time. — The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor 0/ Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Etnperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men. • 

5th Time.— T/ie Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundi-ed thousand men. 

6th Time. — The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men. 



THE SEVENTH EVENING. 

7th Time.— Tifee Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a himdred thousand men. 

8th Time.— The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men ; 
The Emperor of Austria had a hundred thousand men. 



91 



9th Time. — The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 

10th Time, and last — 

The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 
The Emperor of Austria 



had a hundred thousand men ; 
had a hundred thousand men ; 
had a hundred thousand men ; 
had a hundred thousand men. 

had a hundred thousand men ; 
had a hundred thousand men ; 
had a hundred thousand men , 
had a hundred thousand men. 



When well sung, the effect of the song is ludicrous to the 
extreme. Some performers beat time with hand, foot or head, 
but it is much funnier if they stand perfectly motionless, their 
eyes fixed in a steady stare and nothing moving but their lips. 

^' John Brown," to the tune of '' Glory, glory, Hallelujah," is 
very funny sung in the same way, omitting in regular order the 
last words instead of the first, and singing only the first verse. 

EXAMPLE : 

The words in italics are omitted, after the song has been 

Joliii Bro^ai. 



John Brovm's bod-y lies a - mouldering in the ground, John Brown's 



bod-y lies a - mouldering in the ground, John Brown's bod-y lies a- 



i 1 ^1 1 1 --j- 

mouldering in the ground, As we go march-ing on. 



92 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO NIGHT f 

John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the ground; 

John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the ground; 

John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the ground, 

As we go marching on. 

The next time omit the two last words, then three, then four 
till all the first three lines are silent, as in '' The Emperor of 
Austria," which is also very efiective if sung in the same man- 
ner as " John Brown/' dropping last instead of first words. 



Hociis-Pociis 

may now be introduced by an expert performer for the amuse- 
ment of the others, and rarely fails to gain laughing applause. 
You commence this spirited performance by proving your 




riG. 41. 

knuckles to be of wood or iron, by striking them uninjured against 
the edge of a marble mantel-piece or table. 

You perform this trick by raising your clenched fist very high, 
allowing the spectators to see that it is well doubled, and then 
bringing it down very quickly, with sudden sharp force, but as 
you reach the marble open your fingers quickly so that they 
istrike, closing the fist again instantly, as shown in Fig. 41. 



TRE SEVENTH EVENING. 



93 



This feat requires some i^ractice, otlierwise the knuckles will 
actually come in contact with the marble, when, although the 
effect will be quite as fanny for the spectators, the performer 
will probably not see quite so well where the laugh comes in. 
But if doue rapidly and expertly, it rarely fails to call forth a 







riG. 42. 



scream or two from the ladies, and a rigorous examination of 
the performer's knuckles by tlie gentlemen. 

Another piece of hocus-pocus consists in appearing to hit your 
head against the door with great force; you gravely inform the 
spectators that it does not hurt the door in the least, and your 
head can stand it as long as the door can. 

This ruse is very similar to the preceding one and will certainly 



94 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

surprise a company if well done. The performer should intro- 
duce the feat by some speech. 

''Would you desire, ladies and gentlemen, to learn my secret 
for making impromptu verse ? It is to irritate the forehead 
well, not by rubbing with the hand, as Horace did of old, but by 
giving your head some good sound blows against a wall." 

He then proceeds to knock his head three or four times against 
the edge of an open door, as shown in Fig. 42. 

He then puts his hand to his forehead, as if to deaden the pain 
produced by the violence of the blow. 

Of course the operator does not really knock his head ; he 
merely permits his head to touch, or nearly touch, the door, and 
at the same moment he strikes with his fist a smart blow upon 
the side of the door which is concealed from the company. 

The corresx^ondence of the movements of the head with the 
noise of the blow given by the fist produces a perfect illusion on 
the minds of the spectators. 

We have seen a whole company running for water, camphor 
or vinegar, to relieve an unfortunate sufferer who sat holding 
his head, a picture of distress, after appearing to run against an 
open door, and performing this trick without giving any warning 
or preparation. 

A lady after witnessing these performances may now ask if 
any one of the company can balance a thimble full of water upon 
a pin stuck in the wall. The chances are that no. one can do so. 
The thimble is brought, and the lady, carefully holding this in 
one hand and the pin in the other, invites some very exquisite 
cavalier to come to the wall and hold the thimble while she drives 
in the pin. Just as she reaches the designated spot the pin drops 
from her fingers. The gallant must then search for it, and as he 
stoops, the lady performs her feat of hocus-pocus by emptying 
the contents of the thimble upCwi the head of her unsuspecting 
victim. It is not often that a lady can get so fair a chance to 
do a little harmless mischief, and she will be entirely excusable 
in using ice-water for the occasion, in order to intensify the ef- 



THE SEVENTH EVENING. 95 

feet, and raise the gentleman up, with a start, an exquisite " of 
the first water." 
When the laughter subsides, you may introduce 

The Mysterious Eelease. 

This trick is so ingenious and interesting, that while it will 
probably require your closest attention to the explanation in 
order to comprehend it, will yet amply repay you for the trouble. 

You get a string about three feet long, tie the ends together; 
and your preparations are complete. 

First you require some one to hold up his finger. Place the 
string over it, winding it once around (the way of the clock, from 
right to left) forming a loop which completely surrounds the 




Fig. 43. 

finger and clasps it tight. Then, with the right hand draw the 
remaining part of the string out straight, pulling it a little to show 
that it is securely fastened and cannot come off. You now pro- 
pose to release the string from the finger, without talking it off 
over the top. 

This seems an utter impossibility — and the uninitiated would 
undoubtedly so declare it. But it is not so. Holding the striug 



96 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 



out straight with the fingers of the right hand, lay the forefin- 
ger of your left hand across the double string, about half way 
between your right hand and the finger on which the string is 
fastened. Then, with the right hand, carry the end it holds 
forward, over the forefinger thus placed, laying it across the 
double string half way between your left hand and the finger to 
which it is attached. This single loop which you thus carry over, 
and lay across, being slack, hangs down on each side of the 
double string, forming two loops, or one on each side, so that 
you can pass your right hand, which is now free, underneath, 
with the palm downward, and inserting the forefinger in the 
left-hand loop, and the second finger in the right-hand loop, 
pressing them down, the string being held across the top, you 
have the string in the position as represented in Fig 43. 

In Fig. 44 the same position is shown as viewed from above 
by the operator. 

As the string is thus held, you observe that the loops are pre- 





FlG. 44. 



Tig. 45. 



cisely alike ; that is, the inside strings pass under your forefinger, 
and the outside strings pass over it. 

What is wanted now is to change or reverse the right-hand 
loop. 

To do this, pass the second finger from beneath, between the 
inside and outside strings of that loop (see Fig. 45), letting it off 



THE SEVENTH EVENING. 



97 



from the forefinger until it is fairly caught upon the second, 
(see Fig. 46), and then transferruig it back agam to the forefinger. 





Pig. aq. 



Fig. 47. 



and you will see that by these movements the loop has become 
reversed ; that is, the inside string passes over your forefinger, 
and the outside string passes under it, the left-hand loop 




Fig. 48 



remaining as it was ; so that now they are no longer alike (see 
Fig. 47). 
Holding the loops on your forefinger thus arranged, and drop- 



98 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

ping your hand to a perpendicular position, keeping the palm 
toward you, carry the loops forward and pass them over the 
finger to which the string was attached at the heginning of the 
trick. This movement (see Fig. 48) twists the loops into a sort 
of cat's-cradle appearance as seen by the operator. Then request 
the party holding them to he careful not to let the string slip over 
the top of his finger; and, in order to make that impossible, 
place the forefinger of your disengaged left hand on the top of 
his finger. 

To pull now with both fingers would not effect a separation, but 
the string would seem be to still more firmly fastened, and the 
release afar greater impossibility, but let go the loop on the fore- 
finger and pull upon the loop held by the second finger, and as if by 
magic the string comes entirely free from the finger on which it 
was wound, and is exhibited to the gaze of the spectators en- 
tirely in your own possession. 

If neatly and quickly performed, this trick can remain a mys- 
tery for a long time, if the reversal of the loop be rapidly and 
neatly effected. A smooth and flexible piece of cord is almost 
indispensable to a rapid performer. 

The ingenuity of the company having been expended in the 
attempt to guess the '' Mysterious Eelease," a new game, re- 
quiring some thought, may be started, called 

Century Court. 

Century Court is played, by one of the party leaving the room 
and having a century assigned to him during his absence, such 
as Sixth, Tenth, Nineteenth. 

Upon his return he is charged with all the crimes and abuses 
of his century, whichhe must explain, extenuate or acknowledge, 
according to his wit ; or he is praised for its redeeming events, 
noble examples or fine characters, all of which he must grace- 
fully accept, trying at the same time to discover what century he 
represents. 



TRE SEVENTH EVENING. 99 

When he succeeds, he selects the party whose last speech gave 
him the hint from which he gained his information, saying : 

''The Eighteenth (or other) Century, begs leave to retire, 

introducing Mr. to the court," and the new victim leaves 

the room, while another century is selected. 

EXAMPLE : 

We will suppose a gentleman has left the room, and the com- 
pany have agreed on assigning to him a certain century. Mr 
Century is now called in, and proceeds to listen to the remarks 
made to him by the others. 

Miss Smith. Oh ! How could you assassinate one of the best 
men that ever lived ? ( William the Silent.) 

Me. Joxes. Well ! If he did, he produced one of the greatest 
poets. ( Sliaksxyeare. ) 

MJRS. Smith. Yes, and tried to introduce the inquisition 
into Holland. 

Me, Cotle. That was nothing to compare with the fearful 
massacre he caused. {St. Bartliolometv.) 

Miss Cole. He was a good hand, too, at sinking ships — 

Me. Wells. Which made the most gentlemanly duck 
imaginable almost crow for joy. {Adyniral Drake.) 

Miss Lamb. Oh, yes ; and laid the foundation for roast goose 
on Michaelmas-day. 

Me. Cextuet. Thank you, Miss Lamb. I see. Eoast goose, 
sinking ships, and Michaelmas. That means the Spanish Arma- 
da and Queen Elizabeth, thus making me represent the Six- 
teenth Century. Miss Lamb, you may take my place. 

This game may be continued during the remainder of the 
evening. 



100 WHAT JSMALL WE DO TO-NiaRTf 



^IQHTH I)VE]MINQ. 
Mrs. Jarleys Wax- Works. 

This amusing performance; wMcli is based upon the show of 
Mrs. Jarley, as described by Dickens in his ' Old Curiosity 
Shop," is capable of being exhibited to advantage in any room 
divided by folding-doors, or where a side-door behind the cur- 
tain opens into another apartment. If the room be uncommonly 
spacious, a group may be made of such figures as have not to 
assume constrained positions, and be discovered on the rising of 
the curtain ; and this group may be made as large as the space 
will admit. The other figures can be carried on ; and, after 
having been described and gone through their movements, can 
be carried off. 

While being borne in or out, or shifted, the figures should re- 
main perfectly passive, and in any position they are set, no 
matter how awkward, unless the part calls for displacement of 
hmbs or head Their features should retain throughout the 
same look. No attempt should be made to restrain the natural 
winking of the eyes, which will scarcely be noticeable unless the 
person try to repress it. 

The curtain used to conceal the heads of Blue-Beard's wives, 
Ajax, or any other statue, should be made to draw easily by 
strings from each side. 

A flat, square x)iece of pasteboard, painted green, may be 
fastened to the feet of some of the characters, by way of a 
stand. . 

Do not crowd the stage. Each character should be in full 
view of the audience, and those brouglit in set down at the 
front. 

Mrs. Jarley's place is on the left of front, pointing out and de» 

Copyright^ 1879, by Dick & Fitzgerald. 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 



101 



scribing the characters, but at the opening part of her lecture 
in the centre Little Nell points to each character with her 
wand as Mrs Jarley describes it. George and John bring in 
the figures wind them up and oil them in the most impassive 
and matter-of fact way, as though custom had made them insen- 
sible to the humorous features of the exhibition. 




Mks. Jaulex LEcniBrNG. 



The actor who plays Mrs Jarley will find in the lecture on 
page 105, the basis on which he can model his own. He can retain 
any or all of these figures, or introduce others, and bring m all 



102 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

tlie local hits or gags that Ms wit can invent. Where the par- 
ties are well acquainted with each other; one of the best known 
may be brought in as the wax-figure of himself^ and his pecu- 
liarities, real or imaginaryj inoffensively set forth. In short, the 
whole affair is capable of numerous and diverting changes. 

The movements are indicated by Mrs, Jarley's speech, and 
should be well-arranged and rehearsed beforehand. They must 
be made in a purely mechanical, jerky and unnatural way. 

COSTUMES A^TD PEOPEETIES. 

The following directions are given for costuming the charac- 
ters, with the ^' properties " and arrangements requisite for their 
representation in the lecture : 

Mes. Jaeley. — Dark dress, rather ill-fitting; white cotton 
gloves, huge bonnet, long corkscrew curls at side of face, 
and large umbrella. Feather-brush to dust the figures. 
Little Nell. — Neat girl's dress, white wand. 
Geoege xkd Joh^. — Ordinary dress, but light jackets instead 
of coats ; screwdriver, hammer, very large oil-can, watch- 
man's rattle to be turned during the winding up of the 
figures, to represent the sound of the machinery. 
Bllti-Beaed. — Turkish dress, sash, large silvered pasteboard 
cuneter in sash, huge key of pasteboard covered with tin- 
foil. Beard and mustachios made of loose cotton, dyed sky- 
blue, or fight-blue floss-silk. 
The Heads oe Bltje-Beaed's Wives. — This effect is easily 
produced. A rod is extended horizontally across the rear of 
the room, about six feet ffom the floor ; from this a sheet is 
hung, the bottom reaching and tacked to the floor to 
keep it flat fike a white waU. Young ladies standing at 
Intervals behind the sheet protrude their heads through 
perpendicular shts cut at the proper height to suit the 
. stature of each lady ; the upper part of the sht is fastened 
close round the throat by a pin at the back of the nock. A 
strip of red flannel is fastened around the throat where the 
neck comes in contact with the sheet, and a few splashes of 
carmine on the sheet below each head produce the appear- 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 



103 



ance of blood. The hair of each is gathered up and fastened 
to the rod above by a piece of ribbon. The face of each 




Heads of Blxte-Beahd's "Wives. 

is powdered, and the eyes, with a dash of lead-color under 

them, are kept closed. At a httle distance off the effect is 

startlingly real. 
Maid op Hoxoe. — Old-fashioned dress ; needle of wood, silvered, 

with gilded eye — the needle about a foot long ; piece of 

mushn, cahco or mosquito -netting for left hand. 
Captazs" Ktdd. — Sailor hat, Guernsey coat, short wide muslin 

trowsers, long boots, cutlass, black beard and whiskers 

nearly covering the face, long black straight hair. 
De. Gall. — Black suit, knee breeches, buckled shoes, a sheep's 

skull. 
AjAX. — ^White Grecian tunic and tig ts; white wig; powdered 

face ; white table ; 'bottle and glass coated with whiting on 

the table. 
"EsGr. — Chinese dress; a flesh-colored projection, the end bound 

with red flannel, protruding at one side. 
Me. Washln'Gto:!^. — Brown suit, knee breeches, buckles on 

shoes, cocked hat, cane; cordwood stick on stand for a tree. 



104 ' WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Little GIeoege. — Small boy's suit; with knee breeches ; black 
or red stockings ; face and wig made up to represent Wash- 
ington at sixty years of age ; a small toy hatchet. 

King Theebatj. — Oriental dress and cimeter. 

JoSEPHTis. — Long gown, skuU cap, white wig, steel-pen with 
handle. 

PoLiCEMAiT No. 2019.— Pohceman's uniform, very large stuffed 
club. 

GENUDrE Meemaid. (To lejplayed ly a toy.) — Dress arranged 
so that a fish tail turns up from the heels ; scales sewed on 
the lower part, which fits tightly; sea-green girdle, key, 
comb and looking-glass ; wig of green thread. 

SiGNOEiN-A ScEEECHDn.— Handsome dress, with tram. 

William Penn. — Quaker suit; large demijohn. 

Captaln" JrcfKS. — Military uniform ; very small cap, held on the 
side of the head by band ; sword at side, gauntlet gloves, 
switch in hand. 

The Captatn-'s Steed. — A child's hobby-horse. A nose-bag 
should be fastened over the horse's mouth, labeled " Pork 
and Beans." 

Napoleoi^ Bonapaete. — Gray military coat, buttoned up to 
throat ; white knee breeches, tall military boots, cocked hat, 
the points at right angles with the face. Position : head 
depressed, snuff-box hi left hand, in act of taking snuff with 
right hand. 

Samson. — Tights, blue doublet, a sheepsMn wrapped around 
his shoulders, sandals, large dragoon hehnet, and short 
sword. 

Cheistophee Columbus. — ^A Spanish costume, consisttag of 
a loose open coat, with plaited skirt, the sleeves slashed with 
blue puffs; long vest, with lappels; knee breeches, with 
blue slashed puffs on the thighs ; all made of plain brown 
material ; frilled shirt, frill round the neck, red stocMngs, 
shoes with large buckles, cavalier slouched hat and smaU 
feather. He holds an Qgg in each hand. 

Benjamin Feanklin. — Black dress-coat ; black vest, with lap- 
pels ; black knee breeches, black sUk stockings, shoes with 
buckles, very small kite in left hand, its string in right. 



THE EIGRTE EVENING. 105 

King Cophettja. — Eicli costume; over wMch a gay shawl or 
patcliwork quilt for robe ; very tall gilt crown and scei^tre. 

Beggar Maid.— Plain dress, on which various colored patches 
and loose rags are sewed ; basket, with boxes of matches. 

Telescopo {small hoy). — Figure made up as described on 
pages 35 to 38 of this work. 

Mrs. Jaeley's Lecture. 

Ladies a^b Gektle]!o:it : You are about to be favored with 
a view of the world-renowned and unrivaled Jarley's Wax- 
Works, as exhibited before the Eoyal Family, the nobihty of 
England, King Kahcowhorah of the Sandwich Islands, George 
the Count Johannes, and the rest of the crowned heads of Europe. 
Also highly approved of by heads of famihes, and recommended 
by Phineas T. Barnum and Jay Gould as a great moral instructor 
of youth. Likewise a pleasing incentive to virtue and the indus- 
trial pursidts. There are other unpriucipled wax- works, but 
this is the real Jarley. None others are genuine. Beware of 
counterfeits. I am Mrs. Jarley. Contains over one hundred 
figures. All of the size of life. It is my pleasing duty on this 
occasion to explain the points of history for this highly genteel 
audience — admission set at the low price of twenty-five cents — sjje- 
cial rates to schools — and to teach the young idea how to shoot — at 
the Creedmoor range of mingled entertainment and instruction. 
The collection itself is trooly stupenjous. The stage being of 
limited capacity, only a part of this present collection is visible ; 
but my faithful attendants will bring them before you, one by 
one, and after I have described it in chaste and classic language, 
each will be wound up — the clock-work in its in'ards 'U be set 
a-going, and it will act in a highly characteristic and natural 
manner, so as to instruct and startle the beholders. The first 
to be shown is 

blue-beard aind the bloody cbamber. 

George, draw the curtain, and show the bloody chamber. 
That stout gentleman there is Mr. Blue-Beard. The heads are 
the heads of his wives, deceased. Mr. Blue-Beard was of 
Turkey extraction, and was bom of rich but honest parents. 



106 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

He was ezceedingly married Unlike tlie citizens of Utah, before 
he LOOJi ix new wife he carefully killed her predecessor, and 
deposited her head in his private museum In spite of this 
respect for the laws of the land; he was cut off in the flower of 
his days by his wives'" brothers, instigated to their fiendish act by 
a two-third majority of his mother in-law. You will observe, 
that the beard of this figm^e is of a pleasing sky-blue. This 
came from being nursed upon milkman's milk — mixed with 
whiskey — in his infancy, and was heightened by living in a castle 
on the top of a high hill^ where all day long the winds blew. 
Wind him up, G-eorge. Observe how he points the key. That 
is the key to the mystery. He shakes his head. That head is 
the beginning of a tale of woe. Wind up the heads, George, 
behmd the curtain. You see each head open its eyes and wink 
as though in life, thus presenting an instructive lesson of the 
evil effects of curiosity upon the female constitution. George, 
draw the curtain, and proceed to the next figure. 
Here you behold, ladies and gentlemen, an unfortunate 

MAID OF H0170E 

of the time of Queen Ehzabeth, who died from pricking her finger 
in consequence of working on Sunday, Her Gracious Majesty's 
sewing-machine being out of order, and having gone to the 
blacksmith's to be mended, and Her Majesty wanting of a new 
gown on the following morning, to attend the wedding of Lord 
Burleigh, who was to be married to Miss Dolly Varden, at eleven 
precisely, by the Eev. Dr. Tyng, at the church of St Bar- 
nabas. Observe the blood trickling from her finger, also the 
gold-eyed needle of the period, with which she is at work, and 
which is made considerably larger than hfe, and a good deal 
more natural, in order to be more plainly visible to the naked 
eye ; the whole forming a pleasing illustration of the evil conse- 
quences of neglecting our duty. The result of that wounding of 
the finger was an undermining o|^the constitution, by means of 
which the young lady underwent great agony, and suffered sud- 
den death, forty-nine years after, at the age of sixty-seven, 
surrounded by her weeping children and grandchildren, hke- 
wise by her afflicted husband and the family doctor. Wind her 



TEE BtGBTB EVENING. 107 

np, George. What's the matter ? Oil the works a httle, John, 
they catch. Try it again. Ah ! there she goes. Mark how 
regularly the needle goes, as it did in the time when the accident 
took place. Set her back, George, when she stops, and bring 
forward 

CAPTArS" EZDD. 

This wicked mariner and generally reprehensible person, 
ladies and gentlemen, was at one time engaged in a diabohcal 
attempt to ruin ah the Marine Insurance Companies, by scutthng, 
sinking, burning and otherwise injuruig ships upon the high seas. 
Likewise on the low seas. A distinguished poet, Mr. Anon Y» 
MusSj makes him say, in flowing metre — short metre : 

" My name was "Williain Kidd, 
As I sailed — as I sailed—^' 

which, though beautiful, is inaccurate, Eobert being the name 
given to him by his godfathers and godmother in baptism. 
He was also the origiuator of walking matches. Owing to the 
fact that he could not get Gilmore's Garden aboard ship, he 
made his competitors walk the plank. The time made is not 
recorded. In fact, they walked out of time altogether, and did 
not go as they pleased. He also buried large amounts of gold 
in North Carolina and Georgia and California, which led to gold 
mining, three-card monte and other laborious pursuits. He also 
invented Kid napping, Kiddermiuster carpets and Kid gloves. 
At las't he came to this country on a visit, and they thought so 
much of him that they would not let him go. They sent hun to 
England at the pubhc expense, and put him out of suspense and 
in suspense at the same time. So poor had he become at this 
time, that though another mariner stood there alongside of him, 
the two of them only showed one pair of suspenders. Set the 
Captahi a-goiQg, George, Observe the natural action. He 
carries iu one hand the cutlass with which he chopped off the heads 
of his victims, and looks first on one side, and then on the other, 
to see if any ship is coming x)h which he may pursue his nefarious 
designs. You will note^ that he keeps his weather ear open to 
see if the crew are clearing the ship for action, by double reefing 



108 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

the rudder; and taking in the slack of the main jib-boom. That'll 
do, George. Take out the Captain. 
The next person we have is 

DE. GALL, 

the phrenologist. This famous philosopher invented phrenology, 
and the free knowledge he gave on the subject was amazing. 
By the payment of one dollar, the learned Doctor gave, free 
gratis, for nothing, and without any compensation, a chart of the 
inside of your skull, and a map of the outside, laying down all 
the mountaiQS, lakes, rivers and towns on the outside, with tables 
of the population, and manners and customs of the inhabitants, 
so that you found out all you knew about yourself already, and a 
deal more that you never would know, even if you used a fine- 
tooth comb and if you hved to the age of Methusalem. You will 
please to observe that he bears in one hand the skull of a sheep, 
on which to lay down the organs of the human brain. His 
successor. Wormwood, preferred the skull of a donkey, in order, 
as he said, to show his pupils how fearfully and wonderfully they 
were made ; which was bitter on the part of Wormwood. Wind 
up the Doctor, George. Observe that he lifts the forefinger of his 
right hand, and lays in on the skull, laying down his points, and 
bumps his head at it, as much as to knock it in. Observe, also, 
his hat, likewise his shoes, which last are the genuine articles, 
once heel-tapped, wornr-by the Doctor himself Take him out, 
George, and brush little Master George Washington, and see 
that his father's in'ards are oiled. While George is engaged in 
this duty, I wiH show you a piece of ancient statuary, which has 
been placed behind that curtain, instead of the heads of Blue- 
Beard's wives, carefully packed in sawdust. John, draw the 
curtain, and show us 

AJAX, DEFYrN"a THE JEESEY LIGHTNIN'G. 

There, ladies and gentlemen, is the triumph of the sculptor^s 
art. Ajax was a Grecian General — dust the General a little, 
John — that fought at the Siege of Troy. He likewise commanded 
the horse-marines at the Battle of the Nile. A very brave man, 
toO; was Nile, whose battle it was, for the ancient Latin poet 



THE EIGHTH EVENIim. 109 

especially mentions Mm; and says ; " NiM fit." At length Ajax 
came to this comitry, by way of the Erie canal. Led by his love 
of adventure and reckless com-age, he penetrated New Jersey, 
and after attacking and slaying the ferocious mosquito in his 
native jungle, he endeavored to overcome Jersey Lightning, 
which he vowed to do if he perished in the attempt. Ton will 
observe, however, that he seems to be shghtly overcome him- 
self, presenting a melancholy spectacle, illustrating that beau- 
tiful saying : ^^ Virtue is its own reward." There is no mechanical 
motion to this figure, which is cut out of a solid block of plaster 
of Paris. Close the curtain, John — they've had two shillings' 
worth. 

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have — no, we haven't — why, 
George, I wanted the male portion of the Washington family, 
but never miud, only briag 'em in next. This is 

E:N'G, the SI AM ESE TWZN". 

I did hope to add both to my unrivaled collection, but I was 
disappoiuted because of the obstinacy of Chang. They couldn't 
both be moulded together for the wax cast, and each had to go 
on a bust by himself. I persuaded them to submit to an opera- 
tion by the great surgeon, Dr. Sawbones. Eng was cut off, as 
you see, and we got him beautiful. But Chang wouldn't allow 
the knife to touch him; and so he never was separated from 
Eng, though Eng was separated from him. He said he'd b too 
cut-up to think of it even, as there had been a strong attach- 
ment between the brothers ever since he could remember ; so 
much so, that wherever one went the other was sure to be, like 
Mary's little lamb. However, Eng is exactly hke his brother, 
and perhaps a httle more so, and if you could turn the band the 
other way you couldn't tell which was Eng and which was Chang. 
Wiud him up, George. What's the matter ? There's a wheel 
loose. Get the screw-driver — open Ms back, and screw Mm up. 
Now open his mouth, and oil the works. Now he goes — now he 
goes. You wiU perceive that he turns Ms head towards the side 
where Ms brother was, to entreat Chang to be cut off. Take 
him out, George, and bring m our patriotic group. 



110 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

There, ladies and gentlemen, you behold 

THE PATHEE OE HIS COmTTEY 

when he was a httle boy, and his father, who was the grand- 
father of his country. They are represented at that important 
poiut in American history, when the senior Washiugton inquired 
of his son, whether he, George, had the slightest idea who it 
was that barked that tree, which you see at his right hand, with 
the bark very much removed. And there is the boy, with one 
eye on the cherry tree and the other on his father's cane. Ob- 
serve the mingled tuquiry and indignation in the face of the 
grandfather of his country, as he beholds all his hopes of cherry pie 
dissipated by the ruthless hand of the fell destroyer. Then mark 
the charmiug candor and frankness in the face of the Father of 
his Country when he was a boy. And when he grew up to be a 
man he was just as frank and candid. It's a pity we hadn't a 
few more of him now-a-days. But the Washingtons don't bloom 
often. They're century plants. Wiud the old gentleman up, 
George, Observe how the venerable papa brtugs down his cane, 
as though to say, ^^ Show me who hacked the tree, and I'll give 
him ballyhack ! " Set your namesake going, George. Note how 
touchiugly the httle George poiats to the ensanguined weapon, 
as though to say, ^^ I did it, papa, with my httle hatchet; but I 
can't he ; and I wouldn't, not if you were to give me three lick- 
ings for it.'' This beautiful rural group is very much admired 
by all parents of healthy minds, and has the approval of Miss 
Monflathers, the Principal of the Monflathers Select Seminary, 
where only twenty -five pupils are received, at six hundred dol- 
lars per year, and the young ladies washed and ironed without 
further charge, exclusive of extras. Carry 'em off, George, and 
don't forget to remind me not to forget to tell you not to forget 
to get a new cane for the old gentleman. 
Here, ladies and gentlemen, we have 

EZN^G THEEBAU, OE BUE]^AH, 

known not only as The Bow, but also as The Bower, from his 
extreme pohteness in taking off, not only his hat to the ladies, 
but also the heads of his brothers and sisters. He is anxious 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. Ill 

that the Britisli should get out of his country, and don't want to 
have a man delay at Mandelay. If they leave he'U be the left 
Bower, and when they turn it down he'U make it clubs. Wmd 
him up, George Not so fast or you'll break the main-spriag. 
Observe how beautifully he bows, and what an angelic smile is 
an over hun. 
This, ladies and gentlemen, is 

JOSEPHUS, THE HISTOEIAIir, 

whose proper name is Joseph Cephas — Cephas, in Enghsh, being 
a rock , and when I teU. you that Captain Eock is a noted hero 
in Irish history, you will understand why Mr. Cephas wrote so 
much about the MacCabes, or MacAbees as they are sometimes 
called. Mr. Joseph Cephas was a man of some consequence in 
his day. He was President of the First National Bank of Jeru- 
salem, and held a controlliag interest in the elevated raUroad 
from Jericho to Joppa. But the Eabbi Ben Butlah was too much 
for him, and drove him out. So he went to Eome, where he 
opened a clotMng store. The Emperor Titus — Titus Bryx— 
took a fancy to him, and Cephas got a contract for clotMng the 
imperial army in new clo'. He iQvented clo'reform. Likewise 
retired on the profits of his contract, and went into hterature. 
At last he offended the emperor, and then he went into the hons. 
Wind up the venerable historian, George. You observe that he 
draws his pen back and forth in the act of writing. Some fault- 
finding people, envious of the great reputation for accuracy of 
the Jarley collection, have said that steel pens were not in- 
vented at that time. I know it. Just so. But Mr. Joseph 
Cephas was in advance of his time. Eemove the venerable his- 
torian, George. 

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have one of the bright par- 
ticular gems of the collection. This is 

POLICEMAl^ ISO. 2019, 

or rather was, for he is now Captain Hercules O'Smash, of the 
225th Precinct. He was the model pohce of&cer in his time, 
and cracked more skulls than any ten of his comrades. He was 
the terror of innocent countrymen on a visit to town, and tha " 



112 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

cynosure of all admiring nurse-girls out with the baby. He was 
never found m company with burglars, rioters, or such dis- 
reputable characters, since he never came up until the crib was 
cracked, or the row over, when he zealously clubbed the by- 
standers. He was known as the King of Clubs, and was con- 
sidered one of the best cards held by the Police Board. This 
ensured him promotion. Set him going, Gleorge, but keep at a 
distance. Observe with what forty-horse-power-steam-engtae 
force he wields his club. Put him on another beat, Grcorge. 
The next figure, ladies and gentlemen, is 

THE GEmjE^E MEEMATD. 

This is an exact copy, modeled after life — very much after — 
of the only Mermaid ever imported into this country. She was 
found asleep on a rock in the middle of the South Seas. She 
had gone there for a few moments' repose and reflection, while 
her husband, the merman, was off to the Lodge. She locked 
the door, intending to return shortly, in order to sit up for htm, 
and give him a piece of her mind when he returned and rose to 
the surface. She hung the door-key to her girdle, and taking 
out her comb and glass from her pockets, proceeded to comb 
her locks, and look at her lovely face by the hght of the moon. 
She sang a melancholy tune from '' Pinafore," and the strain of 
music, together with a schooner of lager which she had imbibed 
on her way to the surface, lulled her to slumber. A boat's crew 
of sailors stole upon her, seized her, and bore her away from 
her home and her mer-babies. She had drunk but one shght 
draught of beer, and yet she soon found herself half-seas over. 
Torn by anguish, and by the torturing reflection that her hus- 
band would kick in the door, and, believing her dead, would 
marry one of those odious seal-girls over the way, she expired 
shortly after her arrival. " Afflictions sore, long time she bore ; 
physicians were in vain." But let us not pursue the painful 
theme. Wind her up, George — gently — gently. Please to ob- 
serve how she combs her flowing tresses, and contemplates her 
lovely features by the hght of the moon. Set her back, George, 
to make room for the next. 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 113 

We have here, ladies and gentlemen, the bright particular 
star of this unrivaled collection, patronized by the crowned 
heads of Europe, and the pohte circles. This, is the renowned 
vocahst, 

SIG:N"OKrN"A SCEEECHINI, 

first prima donna of London, Paris, Vienna, Milan and Coney 
Island. She appears in the costume of Signora Skidmore, in 
the opera of La Giiarda MuUigano. You will presently witness 
the most extraordinary triumph of art, and hear her sing in the 
most ravishing manner. The mechanism by which these dulcet 
strains are produced cost a heap of money ; but what is money 
compared to an effect that places the Jarley collection ahead of 
all competition. Wind her up, George. [Figure gives a screech 
and stops.] Something wrong inside there, George. Open the 
back. I see. There's a screw loose. Tighten it. Some of the 
works in the throat want oiling. Open her mouth gently. There 
—just a drop, and don't soil the dress. Now turn the key lightly. 
[Figure sings afetv bars, then stops ivith a harsh grating sound, 
which George heightens ivith the rattle.] Just as I expected. 
The main spring has broken. Take her out. We'll have her 
insides taken out to-morrow and sent to the machinist. 
I now, ladies and gentlemen, call your attention to 

WILLIAM PEKtf, 

the founder of Pennsylvania, but whether a brass, an iron, or a 
type-founder, I am not prepared to say. He was of peaceful 
habits, and addicted to philanthropy. Likewise he built a brew- 
ery at his country-seat. He was opposed to dancing, but in 
favor of hops, and though inoffensive, malt-treated his friends. 
In fact he was one of those fond of treatiag. He wrote a treatise, 
and he made a treaty with the Indians, buying a million of acres 
for a few dry goods. The dry goods were princijpally contained 
in demijohns, bottles and barrels. The rest of the dry goods 
was a speech he made to the Indians, but that was so dry that 
they swallowed it with wry faces, and then took a little more rye 
to wash it down. He put up a monument at the place. On one 
side were the words — '^ Unbroken Faith " — and he never broke 



114 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

his faith. He showed it in his works. He came for their goods, 
and he got 'em. The other side had the words — " Penn treat- 
ing the Indians" — and he did. He was a man of peace — and he 
weighed about two hundred pounds. Turn the cranky George. 
Observe the benevolent and highly winning way in which he 
calls the attention of the Indians to the demijohn before him. 
Now move the philanthropist back. 

I next caU your attention, ladies and gentlemen, to the great- 
est of modern heroes, the gallant 

CAPTAIN" JIKKS, 

of the Horse Marines. He is one of the brave men who curb their 
prancing steeds on the decks of our iron-clads, and head those 
desperate charges on the cook's galley that lead to glory or the 
grave. To the bravery of the tiger, and the audacity of the 
lightning-rod peddler, he adds the meekness of the lamb, and 
the tenderness of the suckling dove. He always took good care 
of his whiskers, and regaled his dumb and faithful servant upon 
corn and beans. Why ! Good Gracious, George ! You've put 
the wrong nose-bag on him. Well ! no matter ! corn or pork } 
we can split the difference, and call it corned pork. The figure 
is a hfe-hke representation of the son of Mars, as he appeared in 
the smoke and din of a parade day. Observe now, as George 
winds him up, how the gallant Captain, relaxing from the stern 
manner of the sea dragoon, lays his hand on the mane of his 
fiery and untamed steed, whose neck is clothed with thunder. 
The steed itself is a noted courser, whose coarse hair streams out 
to the wind in a way beautiful to behold. The works are slight- 
ly out of order, or you might hear him neigh. The origkial of 
that animal has made very quick time. On one occasion he 
went nearly a mile a minute— on a fast freight train. He is a 
very economical horse to keep. He is not exactly Parole, or 
Earns, but he is there — tiU you take him away. George, put 
him in the stable, and let his master take care of Mm. And, 
George, handle the Captain carefully. He's naturally rather 
soft, and the heat of the room might melt him. 

Permit me the pleasure, ladies and gentlemen, of presenting 
to your notice the great Corsicam His prestige was so great, 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 115 

that whatever he undertook he was bound to succeed^ for every- 
body said, " Of course he can do it." I mean the renowned 

l^APOLEON BOJ^APAKTE, 

who led his armies in every spot where there was anything good 
to drink. He was known as Napoleon the Great ; also Napoleon 
the First ; likewise as the son of Austerhtz, and the father of 
young Kapoleon. He was fond of war, also of snuff. He climbed 
to the summits of the Pyramids — and came down. He travelled 
to Moscow — and came back. He went to St. Helena, and stayed. 
Set him a-going, George. Observe the elegant manner in 
which he takes snuff. He used to sneeze by machinery, but the 
thing broke last week, and has not yet been repaired. Special 
notice will be given on resumption of the sneezing. This is 
Napoleon Bonaparte, also Napoleon the Great, hkewise the son of 
Austerlitz, but not the father of his country. He was — why 
you've carried him off, George. Never mind ; don't be so hasty 
in fature. 

The next group shown is that of 

sa^so:n" slaying- the lio:n'. 

Put Samson in position, George. There, those arms are down 
again. The springs want strengthening. Try 'em again. That's 
a httle better ; but we must strengthen Samson more to-morrow. 
Samson was in some respects the strongest man that ever hved. 
His record of athletic feats is good. He overcame his enemies, 
and slew them with a natm-al weapon. But he trusted to a 
female hairdresser who set up shop in the neighborhood, and she 
took off so many of his locks that the Philistines were enabled to 
enter and carry him off. They took him into their little game, 
and ordered him to go it blind. He saw their bhnd, and went 
one better. He raked the pile. Just then they heard some- 
thing drop. He performed many feats of strength, and killed a 
hon by a blow of his fist. His last lift was the greatest. You 
see him here in the act of killing the lion. He is represented 
tearing the jaws of the hon apart with one hand, and banging 
him over the nose with the other. The lion is not there. The 
rats gnawed his tail off, and he is getting a new one of gutta- 



116 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

percha. Imagine the lion. Set Samson goings George. Observe 
tlie way in wliicli lie bangs the nose of the brute, and note the 
development of muscle. There — he has stopped — set him back 
and let him rest. 

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have here the individual with- 
out whom we wouldn't have been here to-night. 

CHEISTOPHER COLUMBIJS. 

He was an implorer a long while before he was an explorer, and 
the iQgratitude of King Fernando made him a deplorer. I 
don't see why they make a fuss about his discovermg this coun- 
try. It was so big he couldn't help it. He had only to keep 
sailing due west, and he was bound to hit it, and he incurred a 
fearful responsibility. If he had never discovered America we 
would have been better off. We would have had no pork 
and beans, no electric telegraph, no Edison, as it is. But it is 
not part of the object of this exhibition to harrow up your feel- 
ings. Let us drop that part of the subject. You will see that 
the explorer has an egg in. each hand. He was very fond of 
eggs ; likewise of cracking them with learned men; also of crack- 
ing jokes with eggs. Wiud up the navigator, George. Observe 
how he is tapping one egg on the other to show that, if you do 
that hard enough, one, if not both, will get broken. AH the 
bishops and doctors tried it at Salamander after dinner, but 
Columbus was the only one sober enough to do it, A demon- 
stration of a great truth in philosophy that has covered the 
memory of Christopher Columbus, as Miss Monflathers justly re- 
marks, with imperishable renown. Eemove Christopher, George. 
Ah ! here is another gem of the collection. This, ladies and 
gentlemen, is 

BES^JAMIN FEAItTKLrN" AND HIS KITE. 

BenjamiQ Frankliu was a philosopher; also an ambassador; like- 
wise a journeyman printer. He is represented with his kite, of 
which he was very fond when a boy, and during his Hying the 
same he discovered the lightning-rod. He was treated badly by 
his countrymen, who sent him to France in exile. But he had his 
revenge. He organized a troupe of lightning-rod peddlers whom 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 117 

he dispersed over the country, to ravage and distress the un- 
happy inhabitants. They spare neither age nor sex. The only 
remedy is the shot-gun. In that Tvay the deadly missiles are 
properly distributed. A rifle is useless. The ball might hit the 
peddler's cheek, in which case it would rebound and hit the 
shooter. All of which teaches the great moral lesson not to pro- 
voke the anger even of a child; or it may cause you to repent 
thereof. Turn the crank, George. Observe how the Doctor 
draws up the kite from the string with one hand, and the string 
from the kite with the other, and then drops his arms suddenly 
to represent the shock afforded when the hghtrung-rod peddler 
appears. Let the Doctor subside, George. 
The next is the antique group of 

Kma COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAE MAID. 

His Majesty one morning was smoking a cigar at the parlor win- 
dow, when a beggar girl came along with matches to sell — two 
boxes for five cents. Notwithstanding her ragged dress, her 
face was washed and her hair combed, and she was so beautiful 
that all the ladies of the court, who were in the second story 
front window trying to find out what the butcher boy was bring- 
ing to Brown's, over the way, for dinner, were struck with envy, 
and began to titter. But the King, he put his cigar on the man- 
telpiece, and went down the front steps, and popped the ques- 
tion without delay, and they were married by the bishop. But 
there is a melancholy sequel to this touching story. She led 
him a dog's life after all ; and when a panic came on, and stocks 
were down, and real estate a drug, and the King couldn't allow 
her more than a million a year for pin money, she ran away to In 
diana, and got a divorce, and married the manager of a circus 
troupe, and that family was broken up. It affected King Cophe- 
tua to that extent, that he broke up housekeeping and sold out, 
and went out among the Zulus, and was known there as King 
Cetewayo, and when last heard from, had changed his name to 
Cantgetawayo, and was out in the blackberry bushes, leading a 
wandering hfe. Wind 'em both up, George. Observe the start of 
I)leased surprise given by the King, and the shy manner in which 



118 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

the maid drops her head, and then raises it again, and steals a 
look at the monarch. Eemove the affectionate couple, Greorge, 
and let them spoon at the back of the stage. 

We will now call yom* attention to a very remarkable per- 
sonage; whom we will call 

TELESCOPO; THE DWAEFO-GIAI^T. 

He is, as you observe, not more than four feet high, and three 
feet broad (see figure 16, p. 36). But the original of this figure 
was a great natural phenomenon. He could lengthen himself 
indefinitely at will, and under peculiarly favorable circumstances 
attatu the gigantic altitude of twenty feet. He was born and 
raised on the banks of the raging Eamapo, by whose peaceful 
side he tended his father's flocks on the Grampian hiUs. A band 
of robbers came after the mutton. He pursued them, armed 
with an ox-gacl ; at first they laughed at the little fellow, but 
when he began to rise up to meet the exigency, they stared, and 
when he shot up to twelve feet, or thereabouts, they put up 
some of the tallest walking on record, and he put up the sheep 
in a pen. When he is wound up, he will extend himself. Turn 
the key, G-eorge. Observe how he rises to the occasion. (See 
figure ]5, page 35.) Take him away. 

Allow me to introduce to you an individual with whom you are 
all entirely familiar. 

THE MODEEl:^ POLITICIAIT. 

This was one of the most difficult figures of our entire enor- 
mous collection to construct ; as, from the nature of the case, we 
were compelled to make use of double- action machinery in order 
to make the figure true to the original. The pohticians of former 
times were generally true representatives of the people ; solid 
men, weighing sixteen ounces to the pound, every one of them. 
They legislated for the people, and the people's good. The 
modem pohtician is a horse of an entirely different color. He 
has bigger feet and a smaller head than formerly. His fingers 
are longer and not so clean -, and he is much longer in the reach. 
There is more on the shelf than there used to be, and it's not so 
high up. He can take more and walk farther for it than any 



THE EIGRTR EVENING. 119 

man you ever sa^v. His diamonds are much larger, and mounted 
in. solid gold. His face is much blander (before election) and 
mounted in massive brass. Wuid up the upper works, George, 
and let the company see how obsequiously he bows and how 
sweetly he smiles when addresstug the voters before election. 
Oh ! He is just the nicest man you ever met. He is the Mend 
of the worldng man, and in favor of the most stringent reform. 
See, how naturally he does it. [Tlie figure tows, and smiles ; 
mclining its head alternately to tJie right and left. Action re- 
peated four times.] After election you would hardly recognize 
him. There's honey m his offiice, and he is as busy as a bee 
gatheriug it in from morning to night. George, wind up . the 
lower works. Now see the haughty expression of his counte- 
nance as he turns his head away, and the scornful way he waves 
you off with his right hand. Mark the iacreased rotundity of 
his body, which he familiarly calls his bay-window, because he 
is always looking out for it. This is the way he reforms himself 
at the expense of every one else. jSTeUie, my dear, don't let your 
wand touch him too hard ; he is such a puffed-up fellow that he 
might collapse. It takes very httle to do it, and a busted poh- 
tician is the meanest thing you can possibly imagine. 

l^Ihe swelling of the stomach is easily managed hy inserting in 
tJie ]pantaloons of the figure an India rubber cushion with a piece 
of tubing attacJied to the mouth-piece. TJie cushion is empty at 
first, and inflated during the second ivinding up of tJie figure.] 

Eemove the pohtician, George ; his term of office is over, and 
we don't want Mm any more, and briug in something sweeter 
and better. Don't put him too near Samson, for fear he might 
lose his jaw-bone, and a pohtician can't afford to part with any 
portion of his cheek. 

The next charming group in this incomparable collection is of 
Shakesperean origin. 

OTHELLO A^^TD DESDEMOXA. 

On the left you behold Othello— the first fruits of the fifteenth 
amendment mentioned in history. The more you scrutinize him 
the more you perceive that he is a Moor. Observe his expensive 
costume. The graceful folds of his toga, with the gUt-edge 



120 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

trimming then in fashion. Also the elaborate lacing of his new 
sandals. Mark the fearfiil scowl of jealousy with which he 
gazes on Desdemona. Also the fatal pillow in his right hand, 
and the accusing handkerchief in his left. 

Now, observe the lovely Desdemona, reclining on her couch in 
peaceful slumber, clothed in soft robes of white, and unsuspect- 
ing of violence and treachery. Wiad them up, George, very 
carefully. See Othello, how he shakes the handkerchief, and 
brings down the avenging pillow with unerrtag accuracy upon 
Desdemona's devoted head, Note also with what distinctness she 
exclaims " Shoo-fly !" after each of Othello's murderous attacks, 
and brushes away an imaginary mosquito with her hand. 

This group cost a large sum of money, hi trade dollars, and is 
one of the most dollarous ia our collection. It shows with thrill- 
iug reality the evU effects of black jealousy on a white ground, 
and is a moral lesson against handkerchief flirtation. 

Take them away, George, very carefully. John, mind you 
don't borrow the handkerchief as you did last time. Wrap it up 
nicely so that it needn't be washed so often. Make haste and 
bring in the one hundred and wonth, and last of the collection. 

THE GLADIATOE. 

This, ladies and gentlemen, as you may judge from his cos- 
tume, represents an exhibition fighter of the ancient Eoman 
period. In those classic days, prize fighting was done with the 
sword and not, as in the present degenerate day, with fists. 
This is an exact likeness of Quintus Potatus, the professor of 
athletics in the gymnasium of the Young Men's Christian Asso- 
ciation at Rome, nearly two thousand years ago. The features 
are modeled after a photograph by Eockwood, in a wonderful 
state of preservation. This gladiator in early life displayed 
so much brutal ferocity that he would think nothing of devouring 
a httle gifl before breakfast. And, when remonstrated with for 
the enormity of his offense, he simply grinned and rephed, that 
he was ^' glad he ate her" — Whence his name. Observe his sabre 
—a present from the Grand Duchess for his prowess — "her 
father's sabre" ; an event that has been immortalized in opera 
and song. Wind him up, George. Observe how ho gazes on 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 121 

the dilapidated edge of his trusty sword, and shakes his head, 
deploring its departed usefulness. Carry him away, John, and 
don't put him too near Captain Jinks, as he is quarrelsome, and 
might come from whacks to blows. 

Ladies and gentlemen. Always anxious to please our patrons, 
and gratify their refined and classic tastes, we aim also to 
combine instruction with amusement. You are all aware of 
the extraordinary effects produced upon dead subjects by the 
galvanic battery. Professor Edison, whose extraordinary inven- 
tions are known to the civilized world, both those he has pro- 
duced, and particularly those that he has promised, has invented 
a new galvanic battery, by which he imparts the motions of life 
to wax- works — an achievement of unparalleled benefit to the 
cause of humanity, and the progress of Jarley's unrivaled collec- 
tion of figures. But you shall see for yourselves. George and 
John, put on the wires. Ellen, my dear, go into the other room, 
and when I knock with my umberell, set on the charge. 

[Curtain in rear drawn, revealing heads of the wives as at first. 
George and John attach twine to represent wires to figures, hook- 
ing each to some part of the dress. Mrs. Jarley strikes ivith her 
umbrella. The heads open and shut their eyes. The figures go 
through their grotesque motions, and dance. One of the wires 
falls from a figure, which suddenly stops and resumes its old 
position. Curtain falls.} 

A WOED or ADYICE. 

The elements of success in this exhibition are about equally 
divided among all the actors who participate in its representation. 
Mrs. Jarley should perform her part in a matter-of-fact manner, 
dehvering her lecture in a colloquial, fam Jiar style ; rather tend- 
ing to volubihty of speech, but giving due dehberation and em- 
phasis to the teUing points of her remarks, and preserving perfect 
gravity of countenance throughout. 

The persons who take the parts of the wax-figures must be 
perfectly rigid and motionless, their faces completely impassive, 
and the necessary action performed mechanically and with the 



122 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

jerky movement of imperfect machmery. Each movement must 
be repeated exactly in tlie same manner ; becoming slower by 
degrees as the "works'' run down^ and always stopping rigidly 
in the middle of the last movement. Speaking figures should 
pronounce the words assigned to them in a hard, metalhc tone, 
and with a spasmodic motion of the lower jaw. 

The attendants should appear entirely absorbed in their occu- 
pation, performing all their duties in a business-like manner; 
and, during leisure moments, either dusting the figures, or 
standing motionless, awaiting Mrs. Jarley's orders. 

Little Nell has nothing to do but to point with her wand in 
illustration of Mrs. Jarley's remarks. 

The next entertainment, which includes all the merry-makers, 
is the game of 

Justice is Blind. 

Blindfold one player (we will suppose, of course, a lady), to 
represent Justice ; she must then take a seat in the middle of the 
room, and the leader takes up to her each one of the company. 
Justice must then pass an opinion upon each, and the leader is 
to decide whether the opinion is sufficiently applicable for Jus- 
tice to transfer her bandage to the person described. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadee {taking meek Miss A — to Justice). Will you 
please give your opinion of this prisoner ? 

Justice. I think he is too talkative. 

Leadee. That will not do. It is Miss A — {leading up Mr. 
B — , tvJio treads lightly). What is your opinion of this pris- 
oner ? 

Justice. She is a good housekeeper. 

Leadee. Will not do. It is Mr. B — {leading up Mrs. U—, 
who makes a noise tvith the heels of Jier hoots). What is your 
opinion of this prisoner ? 

Justice. She is deceitfal ; she tries to make me believe she 
is a man, by treading heavily. 



THE EIGRTR EVENING. 123 

Leader. A righteous decision. Mrs. K — , I think you must 
submit to he blindfolded. 

Mrs. R — now tries her skill at blind jadgment, and the game 
continues, until all have been blindfolded once. 

After the company are tired of this game, a most amusing 
exhibition, arranged in an adjoining room, or behind a screen, 
may now be given. It is called 

The Table Orator, 

and never fails to create shouts of merriment when well per- 
formed. 

Two persons are required to make the dwarfish orator. A 
deep window is the best place for the exhibition, or, if that is not 
available, a doorway, draped with full curtains, is the next best. 




riG.\49. 



A table is drawn to the window or doorway, and the curtain ar- 
ranged so as to conceal the person behind it. 

The speaking actor then buttons a loose jacket around him, 
his arms hanging down inside instead of being in the sleeves, 



124 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



which are pinned back out of sight. The assistant, who standi 
behind, as shown in Fig. 49, places his arms over the shoulders 
of the speaking actor; the latter thrusts his hands into a pair 
of boots, or stockings and slippers, and rests them upon the table ; 
a hat is placed upon his head, while a third person carefully 
pins a cloak or shawl so as to conceal the assistant, all but his 




Tig. 50. 



arms, and arranges the curtain in such a manner as to allow 
nothing but the compound manuikin to be seen. 

They now appear as seen in Fig. 50, and the audience now 
being admitted, the fun commences. 

The visible orator speaks, and selects some deeply tragic or 
sensational speech^ while the acting orator makes the gestures. 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 125 

Occasionally tbe speaker may move his boots in some ludicrous 
manner to acid to the effect. 

EXAMPLE : 

Acting orator puts his finger upon his nose, while the speaker 
commences '^EoUa's Address to the Peruvian Soldiers." 

^^My brave associates {acting orator scratches Ms head) ! 
Partners of my toil, my feelings and my fame {blotvs his 
nose, the acting orator performing all the gestures, tvhile the 
speaker keeps up the expression of countenance suited to his 
words). Can Eolla's words add vigor {doubles his fist) to the 
virtuous energies which inspire your hearts {takes a pinch of 
snuff) ? No ! you have judged as I have the foulness of the 
crafty plea {twirls his moustache) by which these bold invaders 
would delude you {puts his thumb on his nose and shakes his 
fingers). Your generous spirit {takes a cent from his pocket and 
puts it hack again) has compared, as mine has, the motives 
which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours 
{picks his teeth). They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for 
power {takes off his hat and boivs), for plunder {rubs his eyes 
with his knuckles), and extended rule {slaps an imaginary 
mosquito on his cheek). We, for our country {adjusts his neck- 
tie), our altars {fans himself tvith his hat), and our homes {puts 
his hat on just over one ej/e)." 

And so on, making the gestures as absurd as possible in their 
incongruity with the subject of the oration. 

Many subjects for good speeches will suggest themselves: 
Mark Anthony's eulogy to Caesar's mantle, Hamlet's soliloquy, 
and others; or an impromptu speech maybe attempted; but let 
the words be always of tragic or solemn import, leaving all the 
fun for the hands. 

At the conclusion of the speech, a verse or two of a song or 
dance, such as ''Love among the roses," etc., may be introduced, 
with immense effect, the dancing steps being executed very 
neatly and quietly. 



126 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



The oration over, a clever trick may be performed for the 
amusement of the merry-makers, entitled 

What^s O^clock? 



Bequest any person to think of some hour of the day ; tell him 
to deduct it from twenty, and remember the remainder. You 
take out your watch, and inform him that you are going to count 
around on the dial, and that when you have counted the number 
corresponding with the remainder that he was to remember, he 
must stop you. 

EXAMPLE : 

Suppose he thought of five o'clock; five taken from twenty 
leave fifteen remainder. You now count promiscuously (men- 
tally, not aloud), pointing at each count with a pencil to one of 
the hours on the dial, but taking care at the eighth count to 




EiG. 51. 



point to the ^' Twelve," and thence in regular rotation backward 
to the left. When you come to the figure '' Five " you will be 
stopped, as this will bo the fifteenth county borresponding to the 



THE EIGHTH EVENING. 127 

remainder fifteen which he was to remember. You will thus 
know that five o'clock was the hour thought of. 

If this trick he repeated more than two or three times, it is 
well to vary the number from which the deduction is to be 
made. Thus, instead of deducting, as in the foregoing example, 
five from twenty, the person addressed may be told to deduct 
the hour thought of from eighteen ; but as eighteen is only six 
more than twelve, you must make your sixth (not the eighth) 
promiscuous count be at figure '^Twelve" on the dial. In the 
first example, with twenty, the eighth count was made at figure 
*' Twelve " because twenty is eight more than twelve. If twenty- 
two be the number adopted, the tenth count must be made on 
figure '^ Twelve," twenty-two being few more than twelve ; and 
so on for any other number. 



128 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



jMlNTH J)v:E]M1]MQ. 



It is cold ! We come in, chilled by the frosty atmosphere out- 
side, and even the warmth of a cordial welcome will not start 
the circulation. In such a freezing emergency there is nothing 
like a good game of romps; so prepare for a series of 

Eailw^ay Accidents. 

The players are to take the following names (as they please), 
and whenever in the course of the story (which is read, or in- 
vented at the moment) their several names are uttered, they 
must do whatever duty is attached to the name, or pay a forfeit. 

Tra'^o, when mentioned, must rise and turn round once. 

Trails must rise when named, and extend the two arms quite 
'.i/f aight in front, like the rails of a track. 

Ladies'-car must rise and make a graceful bow. 

Sleeping-car must nod the head three times, as if falling 
asleep. 

SmoMng-car must rise, sit down on the carpet and rise 
again without touching anything. 

Newsboy must rise and cry " New York Herald." " Horrible 
Murder !" " Times !" " Tribune P '' Witness !" 

Engine must rise and whistle. (A gentleman or boy should 
take the part of the engine.) 

Conductor must call the name of a station. 

Station must rise and bow, or courtesy. 

The Station-master must rise and bow. 

The Porter must rise, cross the room, and return to his seat. 

Passengers must all change seats. 



THE NI^'TR EVENING. 129 

Telegraph must rise and make a sharp clicking sound with 
the mouth three times. 

Wheels must rise and turn round. 

Every player must now listen attentively to the story^ and 
answer the name or pay a forfeit. When the smash comes, all 
rise and change seats, the leader securing one, and thus leaving 
out a new leader, who must tell the next story. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadee. Starting last week upon a Southern journey, I took 
the Washington train (Teaiit rises and turns round once) at 
seven o'clock for a moonlight ride over the rails (Rails rises 
and extends arms in front). The ladies'-car (Ladies'-cae, rises 
and makes a graceful botu) was quite full, as a Woman's Eights 
Convention was going to visit the President. The smoking-car 
(Smoking-cae sits doivn on the carpet and rises again tvithout 
touching anything) was also packed with passengers (Passejst- 
gees all change seats), so I was obliged to secure a berth in the 
sleeping-car (SLEEPiiTG-CAE wocZs three times as if falling asleep). 
Unfortunately^ there was some delay at the first station ( Station 
rises and hoivs), so that we were very much behind time. I no- 
ticed that the conductor (Coxdtjctoe calls the name of a sta- 
tion) seemed very nervous, so I spoke to a newsboy (News- 
boy calls — " Netv York Herald P^ ^^ Horrible Murder P^ ^' Times .'" 
^'Tribune!" " Witness!^') who informed me that the engine (Ex- 
Grs"E rises and tvhistles) would have to put on all speed in order to 
avoid a collision with the return- train (Teaik rises and turns 
round once). This was a cheerful prospect. I quite resolvedto 
pass the remainder of the night with the next station-master we 
passed ( Station" -mastee rises and boivs), and telegraph (Tele- 
GEAPH — Click! click! click !) to the party who was to meet me 
at Washington that if I committed suicide I would rather do it 
in some other way than the one in prospect. 

Looking from the window nearest to me, I could see the wheels 
(Wheels rise and turn round), fairly flying round, striking 
sparks every moment as they grated over the rails (Rails — as 



130 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

before). The porter (Porter rises, crosses the room and returns 
to his seat) spoke to me Id a low tone. '^ Bad look-out^ sir/' said 
he; ^^Bad!" I was in cold shivers from head to foot, and had 
only too good cause. Just as we turned a sharp curve I heard 
a whistle far ahead. Another moment passed, when, with an 
awful noise I can never descrihe, the two engines (Engixe zvhis- 
tles) crashed together in a horrible collision. {All rise and change 
seats, and the neiv leader commences another story.) 

If there are more players than the number of parts specified, 
including three or more passengers, give them some other part 
of a railway-furniture, and invent a movement for it, as : — 
Trunks, valises, baggage-car, tender, hat-rack, water-cooler, 
stove, refreshment-room, tickets, brakes, engineer, lantern, 
locomotive-bell, wood-box, seats, ventilators, windows, etc. 

But what is the horrible tragedy that rouses us from our merri- 
ment, causing all to stand silent and horrified to listen to the 
ominous sounds from an adjoining room. 

Cries of—'' Oh, h-ow horrible!" ''Who can it be?" " How did 
it come here ?" — excite curiosity to such a pitch, that a rush is 
made for the room, where we are dismayed to find, under the table, 
the head of a man completely severed from his body. It seems 
to have been put under the table-cloth for concealment, but 
has rolled out, and lies exposed in all its horror, as seen in the 
illustration. Fig. 52. 

The Severed Head 

always causes a sensation and should not be suddenly exposed 
to the nervous, but the operation is not so terrible as might be 
imagined. 

A large table, covered with a cloth sufQciently long to reach 
to the floor all round and completely hide all beneath, is 
placed in the centre of the room, as shown in Fig. 52. A boy 
with soft silky hair, rather long, being selected to represent the 
lieadj must lie upon his back under the table entirely concealed, 



THE NINTH EVENING. 



131 



excepting tbat portion of his face above the bridge of his nose. 
The rest is under the table-cloth. 

His hair must now be carefully combed down, to represent 
whiskers, and a face must be painted, as in Fig. 53, upon the 
cheeks and forehead ; the false eyebrows, nose and mouth, with 
moustache, must be strongly marked with black water-color, 




Fig. 52. 

or India-ink, and the real eyebrows covered with a little pow- 
der or flour. The face should also be powdered to a death-like 
pallor, and the effect is very startling. 

The horror of this illusion may be intensified by having a 
subdued hght in the room in which the exhibition has been ar- 
ranged. This conceals in a great degree any slight defects in 



132 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



the '^ making-up" of the head ; and adds, therefore, greatly to 
the appearance of reality. Of course no one should be permit- 
ted to touch or disarrange the cloth, as it would destroy the 
effect entirely. 
When the apparently decapitated lad has crawled out from 




Fig. 53. 

under the table, to wash his face and comb his hair, the com- 
pany may return to the drawing-room, and, after fully discus- 
sing the wonderful surgical operation they have seen, join in a 
game of 

Who Was He? 



One of the comj)any starts the game by a very brief sketch 
of some prominent person, and requesting the others to name 
him from the description. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader. I know a person who lived in the last century, was 
a great military leader, had strong admirers and powerful ene- 
mies, and died in exile. Who was he ? 

A'^^- Napoleon Bonaparte. 



THE NINTH EVENING. 133 

Leadee. Eight. 

Number Two. I know of somebody who Uved in the last 
century, was distinguished for courage and treason, was exe- 
crated for his crime, and is the abhorrence of all patriotic 
Americans. Who was he ? 

Ans. Arnold. 

Ntjmbee Theee. I know of somebody who lived B. C. 30, 
distinguished for her rare beauty and famous love-story, and 
committed suicide. Who was she ? 

An-s. Cleopatra. 

The deep thought of this game may now be varied by a laugh 
raised by the catch, 

''Or any other Jackass." 

Inform one of the gentlemen present that you have a difficult 
question to settle and would like to have his decision in the mat- 
ter. You put it to him thusly : 

Given, a field, say an acre of gi'ound, 
Completely enclosed on aU four sides around ; 
On two sides fenced in by a twenty -foot wall, 
That could not be scaled by a donkey at all ; 
On the other two sides, a ditch, deep and wide, 
Far beyond any quadruped's length of stride. 

While the workmen were busy laying the bricka, 
A jackass, as usual, fuU of his tricks. 
Strayed into the field, and in it stayed 
Till the very last brick of the wall was laid. 
Thus the jackass was penned in on every side. 
To escape from his prison he vainly tried. 

Now to you I appeal. Pray what — ^in this case, 
If you had been in this poor jackass' place — 
Pray what would you do to get out of your plight, 
Since the wall and the ditch bar completely your flight ? 

" Give it up ?" Does no plan in your head lay hid? 
Why, that's just what the otrer jackass did 



134 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

This constitutes a very neat sell, if well done. Of course the 
last two lines should not be spoken until the party to whom you 
appeal has had a fair time allowed for reflection. You must in- 
form him that he has but two alternatives ; he must either show 
how to get out of the field or else " give it up." This leads him 
easily into the same dilemma in which the otJier jackass found 
himself. 

The conjurer being always supposed to be present, now favors 
the company with 

The Hat and Quarter Trick. 

Having placed a table before him, he puts a tumbler, a hat, 
and a silver quarter in the position shown in Fig. 54 and invites 




Fig. 54. 

the company to strike the hat so that the coin will fall into the 
glass. 

It will be as well not to sele^/t a hat of the finest finish, as it 
will probably be sent rolling over the floor with each unpractised 
blow. 

When every-one has declared the trick impossible, the conjur- 
er strikes the hat, and the coin falls with a musical jingle into 
the glass. The trick consists in making several feints, as if about 
to strike the hat upon the rim, and finally giving it a sharp blow 
upon the inside of the crotvn, when the quarter drops into the 
glass. 

This is a veiy pretty trick if skillfully executed. 



THE NINTH EVENING. 135 

As the table is there; produce a pack of cards and bring up 
the subject of 

The Boyal Marriages. 

Select the four kiugs from a pack of cards and lay them down 
in a row, faces upward, the King of Diamonds being placed at 
the right-hand end, and the other three in any order you please. 
Next, arrange the four queens in a pile, in the same order of 
suits as the kings; for instance. Hearts, Clubs, Spades, and 
lastly Diamonds. Now take the Queen of Hearts, lay the card 
down below the king of the same suit, saying, ^^ This queen will 
marry her king because he is the happiest-looking of all the kings; 
he is a brave man, always ready with uplifted sword to strike 
down the wrong- doer ; he wooes her with his hand on his heart, 
and she cannot oppose his suitJ^ Then lay the Queen of Clubs 
below her king, and say, ^^ The Queen of Clubs accepts her 
prince without hesitation ; he bears a royal sceptre ; his con- 
duct is as upright as his sword, and he is within an ace of being 
the leading man of his race. The Queen of Spades/' you explain, 
as you lay that card down, ^'next appears with clenched fist and 
stern features, no doubt influenced hj pique, but she cannot re- 
fuse her dark lord, for she knows that at matrimony, as in all 
other games, he can take her without appeal, unless some one is 
trump enough to destroy his power. The Queen of Diamonds,'' 
you add, in explanation of that card, ^^ declares peremptorily 
that she will not marry her king, as he has altogether too much 
advantage over her." 

You now ask your audience to guess what great disadvantage 
the queen of diamonds labors under. If no one can tell, the 
queen will speak for herself, and explain that she never will con- 
sent to marry a man with only one eye, as he can see twice as 
much as she can. He can always see two eyes on her face but 
she can never behold more than one on his. She affirms that 
she is a fair woman, and demands fair play, and prefers to look 
square in the face of the man she marries. 



136 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT? 



^ENTH ^VENIJMQ. 



Not always aspiring to lofty subjects in our round of entertain- 
ments, and believing that a hearty laugh, if not exactly sound 
sense, is most acceptable to our sense of sound, we propose to 
start this evening with a game of 

iN'onsense ; 

pure, simple nonsense ; and woe betide him who tries to introduce 
any other element therein. 

The company being seated in a circle, one starts by whispering 
to his neighbor on his left an article ; this one whispers to the 
one on the left an adjective ; he whispers to the one on his left a 
noun, and each whispers to the one on the left the following 
parts of speech, in regular order : — an article, an adjective, a 
noun singular, a verb, an adverb, a number, another adjective, 
and a noun plural ; the last one ending by whispering to the first. 

When each has had the word whispered in his or her ear, the 
second one tells his word aloud, then the third, fourth, and so 
on, until a complete sentence is spoken. 

EXAMPLE : 

The first player whispers the article A; second one, the adjec- 
tive Magnificent ; third one, the noun Leopard ; fourth one, the 
verb Contemplated ; fifth one, the adverb Pensively ; sixth one, 
the number Nineteen ; seventh one, another adjective, Exasper- 
ated ; and the eighth one, a noun in plural. Kangaroos, to finish 
the sentence. 

Each one now speaking his whispered word aloud, the non- 
sense is : 

^^A magnificent leopard contemplated pensively nineteen 
exasperated kangaroos." 

This profound addition to the accumulated wisdom of ages 



THE TENTH EVENING. 



137 



having been duly appreciated, ttie leader whispers again an 
article, and the adjective, noun, verb, etc., follow as before, in 
regular order, until a new absurd combination follows. 

When a sufficient number of ridiculous statements have been 
made, the door of the room is opened, and the lady of the house 
is asked if the gentleman who is to hang the new pictures may 
come in. A reply in the affirmative being given, the door opens 
again to admit 

The Rising Man, 

who, entering slowly and solemnly, proceeds to examine the 
walls, turning his back upon the company^ and gomg around the 




Tig. 55. 



room, now stooping to a distance of thre© or four feet from the 



138 



WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



ground to look through a key-hole, now rising to a height of nine 
or ten feet to examine the high places, as seen in Fig. 55. 

After gravely inspecting the entire room he marches back to 
the dressing-room, where he is found to be a gentleman of the 
average height, who, like the old woman tossed up in a bas- 
ket, 

"In one hand he carried a broom." 

A Stick is tied firmly amongst the straws, so as to rise above 
them to the depth of a man's hat. Over the broom, and buttoned 




riG. 56. 
around this stick, is a water-proof cloak and cape, with a smooth 
lining to allow it to slide up and down over the lower cloak 
without hitching, and above them a hat is nicely balanced upon 
the stick (see Fig. 56). By raising and lowering this, the ef- 



THE TENTH EVENING. 



139 



feet is produced of a man who can lengthen or shorten his body 
at pleasure, his own head and shoulders being hidden under 
the cloak. The party performing this should first put on another 
cloak, so that the upper one, which is supported on the stick, 
may slide easily up and down over it. 

An optical illusion of a very diverting character may be pro- 
duced by persuading a gentleman to perform 

The Loiig-iN'eckecl G-eiitlemaii. 

It will add greatly to the effect of this trick if the performer 
should happen to have by nature a long thin neck, and submit 
to have painted upon it two black stripes about half an inch 




Tig. 57. 



wide. Putting on a high collar, he buries his chin in it, enters 
the room, and stands before the audience. The neck is very 
slowly drawn out to its utmost length, and as slowly allowed to 
sink down again. It is then shot out suddenly to its full length, 
as suddenly withdrawn, and the performer retires. The bars of 



140 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT? 

black give an appearance of immense length, and should be 
painted on about an inch on each side of the middle of the 
throat, as shown in Fig. 57. 

When this gentleman has retired, the company can join in a 
game of 

Proverbs in Chorus. 

One of the party leaves the room, and the remainder agree 
upon a proverb, the words of which are divided amongst them. 
If there are more persons than words, let the same words be 
taken by two or three, but the words must not exceed the num- 
ber of players, as no one can say two words at once. 

The leader; standing near the door, gives the word of com- 
mand: 

"When I drop my handkerchief each one of you must shout 
his or her word, and you (to the party entering the room) must 
guess the proverb chosen, from the din." 

This is a very amusing game, and proverbs should be chosen, 
if possible, that are short, that each word may have a good 
loud chorus. 

If the guesser can name the speaker whose voice or word gave 
him the clue to the right guess, that one must leave the room 
next time ; if he does not guess correctly he must go out again ; 
if he cannot name any one in particular who led to a correct 
guess, the next one going out must depend upon the good-na- 
ture of the company. 

For a game of hearty laughing, depending entirely upon its 
utter absurdity, we would now recommend 

The Muffin Man. 

The chairs being drawn into a circle, facing inward, the lead- 
er, warning the company that every smile will cost a forfeit, 
turns to his left-hand neighbor, and singing the words to a mo- 
notonous tune, asks him very seriously, in the following verse : 



TRE TENTH EVENING. 



141 



Oh, don't you know tlie muffin man ? Oh, don't you know the muffin man? 



^^=^Jr^=^ 



Oh, don't you know the muf - fin man, Who lives in Maid-en Lane ? 

The next player must reply, to the same tune, and with per- 
fect gravity, looking his questioner full in the face, 

Oh, yes ; I know the muffin man, 
Oh, yes ; I know the muffin man, 
Oh, yes ; I know the muffin man 

Who lives in Maiden Lane. 

Then with a sudden jerk he turns to face his left-hand neigh- 
bor, and staring in his face, asks, 

Oh, don't you know the muffin man ? 
Oh, don't yoit know the muffin man ? 
Oh, don't you know the muffin man 
Who lives in Maiden Lane ? 

The third player replies, staring in his questioner's face and 
without smihng. 

Oh, yes ; I know, etc., 

and in turn asks his left-hand neighbor. When the entire circle 
has been thus questioned and answered, they must all sing 
gravely^ and in chorus. 

We all well know the muffin man ! 
We all well know the muffin man ! 
We all well know the muffin man 

Who lives in Maiden Lane. 

If any circle of players can finish this absurd performance 
without producing an enormous pile of forfeits, they had better 
put on their hats and wraps and retire at once to the solitude 
of their dreary homes, for they will have proved conclusively 
that there is not a laugh in their whole composition. But such 
things ^^ mote " not be. 



142 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



Wheal the gravity of the company is restored, let some expert 
conjurer exhibit 

The Eabbit. 

The rabbit may be made of a pocket-handkerchief; a fur cuff 
or glove, or any twisted fabric that can be coaxed or tied to 
imitate the little animal. It must be placed in the palm of the 
left hand, and it is surprising to see how far it will jump, or 
appear to jump, when thrown by a quick, jerkiug contraction of 
the fingers. Up the arm to the shoulder, into the lap of one of 
the ladies, over the chandelier, or under the piano, always 
starting from the position shown in Fig. 58. 




Fig. 58. 



A little practice will enable the performer to aim it scientific- 
ally, and the merriment is increased by a little conversation : 

'^I have here a dear little pet, a rabbit that was chased by 
my dog Ponto in the woods last week, and sprang into my arms 



T£[E TENTH EVENING. 143 

for protection. He is very tame ; will you stroke it, madam ? 
Hil {Babbit jumps over the chandelier.) Why, sir {replacing it 
on his hand), is that the way to behave when a lady offers to 

caress you ? Lie still now, and let Mrs. G see what a nice 

little pet you are ! {Babbit jumps over the lady^ s head.) Dear, 
dear ; how naughty you are ! Now do be quiet, sir {replacing 
it), and show the company how well you can behave. {Babbit 
jumps into a lady^s lap.) Oh, you want to go to Miss B— — , do 
you? But you should not jump in that abrupt way. You 
quite startled the lady. Come here now, and see if you cannot 
run nicely along the floor. {Babbit jumps under the piano.) 
What! you want to hide? Are you shy? Well, then, jump 
up on my shoulder and I'll carry you back to your box. {Bab- 
bit jumps on shoulder and is carried aivay.y 

The canton-flannel rabbits made for a child to play with 
can be bought for a trifle, and may be made to perform all 
sorts of antics with a little practice. 

The household pet having had his day, we propose a little 

Magic Music. 

This is a very pleasant game. One of the players is sent out 
of the room, and some small articles, such as a handkerchief, 
ring, bracelet, or some such thing, is hidden away. The signal 
is then given for the banished one to return ; and a lady or 
gentleman acquainted with music takes up a position at the 
piano. It is for the musician to indicate," by the strains on the 
piano, when the seeker is approaching the hidden object. As 
he recedes from it, the music falls to a low tone, and a mourn- 
ful cadence ; as he approaches it, the notes swell out, loud and 
clear, bursting into a triumphant strain as he Anally puts his 
hand upon the prize. If properly managed, the magic music 
may be made to have almost magnetic power in drawing' the 
seeker to the hidden treasure. 

Another variety of playing this game is to set the absent 



^LL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

player some task to perform, instead of hiding an object for him 
to seek. 

EXAMPLE : 

A being absent; the others decide that he is to take a book 

from the book-case, and present it to a lady. As he walks 
around the room, the music increases in volume as he ap- 
proaches the book-case, but falls into lower tones as he passes it. 
He thus is informed in what locality his task lies. He takes 
out a book, and the music is loud and lively ; he begins to read; 
the music is subdued and slow ; he is faltering in his task. He 
carries the book around the room. As he approaches the lady 
the music rises in volume and rapidity, ending with a trium- 
phant crash, as he hands her the volume with a graceful bow. 

In case of entire failure a forfeit is exacted, and each of the 
company should leave the room in turn. 

Another amusing game may now follow in its turn, called 

The Elements. 

A handkerchief is twisted into a ball, or if there is a soft 
ball conveniently at hand it may be used in preference. 

The players must learn the rules, and bear them in mind. 
They must sit in a circle, and the game commences by one 
throwing the ball at another, calling out at the same time an 
element. 

The one whom the ball strikes must name something that 
lives in the element named, before the first player can count 
three ; if earth, an animal ; if water, a fish ; if air, a bird ; but 
iffire is named, she cries, '^ I bum." 

Any mistake or hesitation costs a forfeit. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader {throwing the ball at A). Earth ! One ! two ! — 
A — . Lion ! {throwing the ball at B). Fire ! One ! - 
B — . I burn! {throiving the ball at C). Air! One! two I 
three !— a forfeit ! I counted three before you answered. 



THE TENTH EVENING. 145 

C — {pays a forfeit and throws the hall at B). Water! Onei 
two ! — 

D — {flurried). Elephant. 

C — . A forfeit ! Elephants do not live in water. 

D — {throwing the hall at E). Water ! One ! — 

E — . Salmon ! {throzving the ball at F). Air ! One ! — 

F — {who has been studying). Goose ! I had that ready for 
any element {throwing the hall at G). Water ! One ! two ! — 

G— . A fish! 

F — . Forfeit ! You must name a fish. 

G — {throwing the hall at H). Air ! One ! two ! — 

H — . Swallow. 

It is astonishing how many forfeits can be collected in this 
apparently simple game ; it must be played rapidly, or all the 
merriment is lost. 

When the forfeits for this game have all been redeemed, the 
conjurer again makes his bow to exhibit 

The Eose-colorecl Goat. 

The '^ properties " needed for this exhibition consist of a 
white goat, and a white rose in full bloom. If a goat cannot 
readily be obtained, any other white animal, such as a cat, dog, 
rabbit, or even a mouse, will answer the purpose, provided only 
that it be white. The animal must be placed and secured near 
at hand, ready to be produced when the right time comes. The 
rose may be laid on the lecturer's table carefully covered with a 
handkerchief, or concealed in a drawer in the table. The sub- 
ject should be approached or led up to by any little speech that 
may occur to the " lecturer." We will suppose something in the 
^ay of the following : 

EXAMPLE : 

^^ Ladies and gentlemen: We live in the age of wonders? 
I do not venture on this declaration recklessly, or without ample 
grounds. The wonderful apphance of steam to the innumera- 



146 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

ble and widely-different purposes of art and locomotion are alone 
sufficient to warrant my assertion and prove its truth. More 
than that ; we have chained the electric flash, and compelled it 
to do our bidding ; we catch the fleeting shadows as they pass, 
and photograph them unalterably on a scrap of paper ; we can — 
but why enumerate the thousand triumphs of ingenuity and skill ! 
They are all nothing, absolutely nothing, compared with the 
natural wonders that, from their daily and hourly recurrence, 
are passed by unheeded and unnoticed. Nature, unaided by 
the puny hand of man, throws deeply into the shade the great- 
est achievements of genius and art. 

^^What hand can portray, what pigments can imitate the 
glorious hues of the setting sun ? Why, in color alone her works 
are unapproachable. How little we appreciate the wonderful 
beauties of the objects with which nature has surrounded us: 
birds of magnificent plumage ; fishes whose delicate coloring and 
lambent radiance are judged merely as covering so many pounds 
of food ; animals we have, of every color of the rainbow. Is 
not a fox red ? What purer shade of yellow can you find than that 
which nature introduces in the tints of a tortoise-shell cat? Where 
can you find a more perfect blue than the color which adorns the 
physiognomy of a blue-nosed monkey ? What more beautiful 
object can you behold than a rose-colored goat (or cat, or what- 
ever animal you have) ? {Pause.) 

'' Ladies and gentlemen, why those signs of incredulity ? Do 
you mean to say that you never saw a rose-colored goat ? Why, 
they are everywhere ! I can show you one this very moment. 
{Fetch in the animal, covered over, all hut the head, with a shawl 
or other covering.) There {withdraiving the covering)\ What 
is that ? I affirm that goat is a perfect rose-color. Nature made 
it so, and nature never makes any mistake. Why, ladies and 
gentlemen {surprised)! You seem to doubt my word, and the 
evidence of your own senses. Must I prove {indignantly/) such 
a plain, self-evident fact? This is harsh treatment ; you push my 
good-nature really too hard. But I recoil not from the proof! 



f 
THE TENTH EVENING. 147 

Not one moment need I hesitate. {Produce the rose ; hold it aloft 
with mie hand^ and point at it with the other). Is not this a rose ? 
Has not this rose the color that nature gave it ? Now look at 
that goat. Has it not the same color as this rose {deliberately)^. 
Do you STILL doubt me {triumphantly) ? 

The funny man may now finish the evening's entertainment 
by a conundrum; 

Oain and Abel. 

Lay a walking- stick on the table and place a bell by its side 
and announce that they represent two well-known historical 
personages {Cain and Abel). 

When this has been correctly guessed you can chaEenge one 
of your active gentleman friends to accomphsh 

The High Jump. 

Tell him to place two chairs back to back about three feet 
apart ; then to take off his shoes and jump over them. 

If the party finds it beyond his power to succeed, you can 
take off your own shoes, lay them side by side and jump over 
them. That was all the other party was expected to do, only ho 
did not understand it m that way. 



148 WSAT SHALL WE DO lO-NiaRTf 



Eleventh ^vejmij^q, 



After ten evenings of fun we find that there is a visible ten- 
dency to waste no time, after assembling, in talking. Every- 
body evidently means business, and we are no sooner seated 
than some one proposes to play at 

Penny Post, 

in order to give the company an opportunity to move about. 
One of the party is chosen for the postman, and provided with 
a pencil and sheet of paper. He goes to each of the company 
in turn, and each gives him the name of a place, which he writes 
down, no two persons being allowed to choose the same name. 
He then tries to get a seat and elect a new postman, by causing 
the company to change places, and trying to secure one of the 
vacated chairs. 

There must be the same number of seats as there are play- 
ers, omitting the postman. As soon as all are seated he consults 
his paper and says, 

^' The post is going between Boston and Chicago." 

The moment the towns are named Boston and Chicago change 
places, the postman trying to secure one of the seats. If he suc- 
ceeds he takes the name of the town chosen by the party who 
loses the seat, and who, in turn, becomes postman. 

When the postman says '' The general post is going," all the 
players must change seats, and in the general scramble the 
postman is almost sure to be changed. Anj town not answer- 
ing to its name pays a forfeit. 



THE ELEVENTH EVENING. 149 

EXAMPLE : 

Postman. The post is going between Washington and 
Philadelphia. 

Washington and Philadelphia change seats. 

Postman". The post is going between Troy and Albany. 

Troy and Albany try to change seats, but the postman get- 
ting Albany's chair, Albany replaces the postman, and the first 
postman becomes Albany. 

Postman. The post is going between Cincinnati and St. 
Louis. 

Cincinnati and St. Louis change seats. 

Postman. The post is going between Portland and New 
Orleans. 

Portland and New Orleans change seats. 

Postman. The post is going between New York and Har- 
risburg. 

New York and Harrisburg change seats. 

Postman. You are all too quick for me. The general post 
is going. 

A scramble, ending in a change of postman. 

The chairs should be placed in two rows facing each other 
down the room, and some distance apart, so that the postman 
may have a good chance. He has the privilege of walking up 
and down between the rows, and should have his names in two 
lines upon the paper, so that he may not make those in the 
same row change places. 

While the Penny Post is in active operation one of the boys 
with an accomphce goes into another room to arrange for the 
amusing trick of 

The I^auglity Boy. 

When all is ready the accotnplice enters the room and in- 
forms the father of the naughty boy that master Tom or Bob, 
or whatever the name may be, is very sick, and the doctor has 



150 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



ordered him to take some medicine and go to bed, but tliat he 
will do neither the one nor the other, and is behaving very badly 
in the next room. 

The company all adjourn to the room to see what is to be 
done for such a dreadful child, and find master Tom seated in a 
high chair, securely tied in. His father takes the medicine in a 
bowl, and an immense spoon, and offers it to the boy, who 
roarS; kicks his feet and makes horrible faceS; but will not take 




Pig. 59. 

the dose. Persuasions, bribes and threats are tried, until the 
father, getting out of all patience, gives the naughty boy a smart 
blow on the head with the big spoon. With a fearful yell the 
head falls off behind the chair. 

The horrified company, looking behind the chair, will find the 
naughty boy was composed of a pillow nicely dressed and fast- 
ened in the chair, the feet being the hands of master Tom or 
Bob thrust into a child's socks and shppers, and put upon the 
shelf of the high chair, and the head being that of the aforesaid 
Tom or Bob; who can thus kick; scream and grimace, and even 



TRE ELEVENTH EVENING. 151 

have his head knocked off without affecting that portion of his 
body represented by the pillow. 

The illustration (Fig. 59), shows how the naughty boy is 
made, but the legs of the high chair should be covered to con- 
ceal those of the boy standing behind it. 

When the merriment caused by this terrible child has sub- 
sided; start a game of 

Why, Wlieii, and "Wliere ? 

One of the players goes out of the room, and the others fix 
upon some word that has a variety of meanings for him to 
guess when he returns. He must go three times round the room, 
asking the players the first time ''Why they like it?" the 
second time '' When they hke it ?" and the third time '^ Where 
they like it ?" The player whose answer betrays the word goes 
out next time. 

EXAMPLE : 

Supposing five players, who fix upon the word train. 
Leader. Why do you like it ? 
Number 0:n'e. It is convenient for travelers. 
Number Two. It is becoming to a short figure. 
Number Three. It is pleasant in rapid motion. 
Number Four. It is dressy for evening wear. 
Number Five. It is indispensable for making children 
good. 
Leader. When do you like it ? 
Number O^ste. When I am in a hurry. 
Number Two. When I have a letter to send. 
Number Three. When it carries provisions in the army. 
Number Four. When it is of velvet. 
Number Five. When it is not too long. 
Leader. Where do you like it ? 
Number O^te,. In picturesque localities. 
Number Two. Xtl a ball-room. 



152 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Number Three. On a pleasant route. 

Number Four. Not where it is connected with a magazine 

Number Five. Not in a muddy street. 

Other words admitting several meanings may be chosen, but 
the questions must be strictly limited to ^^Why?" ^'When?' 
^' Where?" 

This game having taxed the ingenuity of all the players, pro- 
pose now a game of 

Characters. 

One of the party retires from the room ; in his absence the 
remainder of the company fix on some prominent literary or 
historical personage, living or dead. The person who retired is 
then called in, and endeavors to guess ^^ who he is" by asking 
the members of the company any question he may consider 
likely by their answers to give him the desired information. 
Such questions as ^^ Where was I born?" '^How old am I?" 
^' For what am I celebrated ? " etc., will soon give a clue to the 
personage fixed upon by the company. The person whose an- 
swer decides or leads to the discovery of the personage fixed 
upon then retires, and the company unite on some other lead- 
ing name to be guessed, in the same manner. 

EXAMPLE : 

Mr. B , leaving the room,, is recalled, and told that a char- 
acter has been assigned him. 

Mr. B — . Where was I born ? 

AifS. In London. 

Mr. B — . In what century ? 

Ans. The seventeenth. 

Mr. B — . What was my profession ? 

Ans. You started in life as a merchant, served also in the 
army, but finally became a distinguished author. 

Mr. B— . An author ! Did I die young ? 

Ans. No. You died at seventy. 



THE ELEVENTH EVENINa. 



153 



Mr. B — . Did I write Eobinson Crusoe ? 
Aks. You did. 

Me. B — . Tlien I am Daniel De Foe. 

All having tried their skill at guessing, the conjurer now 
shows us 

The Out Tape Made Whole. 

Take a piece of tape about two yards long; draw the ends 
over the centre, as illustrated in Fig. 60, the right end being 
over the tape and the left end under it. Then hold the two 
loops thus formed, one in each hand, the two points y and 0, 
where the tape crosses, being held between the thumb and fore- 
finger of each hand, as shown in Fig. 61. The point desig- 




FlG. 60, 



nated by x will then be right in the middle of the tape. You 
now explain that by cutting the tape through at x the tape will, 
of course, be divided into two parts, and you request one of the 
company to cut it -, adding, that when cut you will restore the 
tape to its former condition. Before the cutting takes place 
give the loops a shake, which affords you the opportunity of 



154 



WSAT SHALL WE DO TOmGHTf 



dexterously making the following change, on which the success 
of the trick depends : Before shaking the loops you will place 
the second finger of the left hand on the point x (Fig. 61), to 
show where the tape is to be cut ; at the same time shift the 
disengaged fingers of the right hand (hitherto holding the part 
above B) underneath instead of over the string, and right in- 
side the loop ; then give the shake, during which the part x is 




Fig. 61. 

drawn down by the second left-hand finger ; the portion of the 
tape above B is dropped from between the thumb and forefinger 
of the right hand, and the tape at C is seized by the latter. 
On resuming your former position the piece held up to be cutis 
no longer the middle of the tape, but merely a short continua- 
tion of the end D. Next, let this be cut through, and immedi- 
ately let the tape fall entirely from the right hand, which you 
now employ, with the aid of your teeth, to tie the cut ends (D, 
C, Fig. 62) in a double knot at «/. After this is done (not before) 
you can remove the left thumb and finger and exhibit the tape 
apparently tied together in the middle, as in Fig. 62. You 



THE ELEVENTH EVENING. 



155 



now take hold of the knot with the forefinger and thumb of the 
right hand, and give one end of the tape to some one to hold ; 
then place the thumb and finger of the left hand upon the tape 
close up to the right hand, apparently to hold the knot, which 
is slipped along the tape by the right hand ; ask another per- 
son to take hold of the tape which you offer him with your right 
hand; and when placing it in his hand you shp the knot off the 



Fig. 62. 

end, and conceal it between your fingers until an opportunity 
comes of pocketing or otherwise -getting rid of it. The knot is 
supposed all this time to be under your left thumb and finger. 
Now, blow upon those fingers, and show the tape completely 
restored, and free from any knot. 

You have thus proved your ability to do almost any wonder- 
ful thing, even 

To make a Selected Card assume any 
Position in the Pack. 



Take a euchre pack of thirty-two cards ; hand them to one 
of the company to shuffle and cut, and lay them on the table, 



156 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

faces dowDward. Inform him that you will withdraw from the 
room^ and request him to lift, while you are absent, a few cards, 
say about a dozen, from the pack. He is to count how many 
cards he lifts, also to recollect the face of the card which lays at 
the bottom of the cards he lifted, and lastly to lay the lifted cards 
undisturbed on the rest of the pack. You then secretly write 
a number (say twenty-five) on a bit of paper, seal the paper in 
an envelope and hand it to one of the bystanders to keep. Hav- 
ing done this, you leave the room. 

When you re-enter pick up the pack ; and, while asking 
whether your directions have been carefully carried out, man- 
age to get a glimpse of the bottom card of the pack. Then let 
the pack be cut (not shuffled) as many times as you choose ; pick 
up the pack again, and run through them until you find the card 
which you observed at the bottom of the pack before they were 
cut. Mark the place with your finger ; conceal your hands be- 
hind your back, or under the table, and cut the cards at the place 
marked with your finger ; this will restore the pack to its exact 
condition before the cutting took place. Now count off twenty- 
four cards (one less than your written number) from the pack, 
face downward, one at a time, in such manner as to reverse th© 
order of these twenty-four top cards ; replace them, in their in- 
verted order, on the top of the remaining cards ; and put the 
pack on the table. Ask the person to count off the cards, one 
by one, from the top of the pack, commencing with the number 
of cards he first lifted : — thus, if he lifted seven, the first card 
of the pack would be eight ; the next, nine, and so on. When 
he has counted off twenty-four cards stop him, and ask the party 
who has your envelope to open it and read' the number on the 
paper. His reply will be (in this instance) twenty-five. You 
then turn to the former person and inform him that, having 
already counted off twenty-four, the next (or number twenty- 
five) will be his card. This he will find to be correct. This is 
a trick that will bear repetition ; but another number (say nine- 
teen) should be enclosed in the envelope. The number of carda 



THE ELEVENTH EVENING, 157 

to be reversed in their order will then be eighteen^ one less than 
the nineteen. In all cases, let it be understood that the number 
of cards lifted should not exceed about half the pack. If, how- 
ever, you fix on number thirty-two, no restriction is needed, as, 
in this case, he may lift as many as he pleases, provided at least 
one card be left on the table. The number thirty-two will, of 
course, involve the reversal of the order of the entire pack of 
cards, except the bottom or last one. 

This trick admits of a variation, which may be introduced ui- 
stead of an exact repetition of the same thing. You give the 
same directions and proceed the same as before, up to the 
point of withdrawing from the room ; but when you re-enter 
omit the cutting, and take the pack at once for the purpose of 
reversing the necessary number of cards, finishing the trick as 
before. This way is, perhaps, not quite as effective, but it is 
always a good point to avoid performing any trick with cards 
more than once in exactly the same manner. 

This trick will furnish something to speculate upon for the 
company as they go home. The more they try to solve the 
puzzle the less they will find out about it. 



158 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



fw^X^FTH ^VE)M1]MQ. 



The social circle being once more in readiness for suggestions 
from a leading spirit^ the amusements this evening had better 
commence with the exhibition of a most wonderful animal who is 
introduced by a showman, as 

The Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus, 

OR 

Duck-billed Platypus. 

'' This curious animal," says the showman, pointing to a figure 
similar to that seen in Fig. 63, ^' was discovered in the South 




Pig. 63. 

Sea Islands, just after the kitchen clock had struck midnight, 
upon the thirty-first of June, 1647, by Christopher Crusoe, who 
sent this one specimen to my very great, greater, greatest, 
grandfather, over two hundred years ago. 

^' The animal is amphibious, living equally well in the duck- 
pond or in the back attic, where he usually roosts. He is car- 
nivorous, subsisting chiefly upon rats, mice and kittens. In- 
deed, one or two babies disappeared very mysteriously in my 



THE TWELFTH EVENING. 159 

grandmother's family; soon after this extraordinary bird was 
imported. 

''His habits are very peculiar; he sleeps at any hour when he 
can find a comfortable roost, and eats whenever anything eata- 
ble comes in his way. I shut him in the dressing-room for an 
hour, and regret to state that he has devoured all the hats in 
the room, and was half through with the over-shoes when I dis- 
covered the mischief. He is hke a parrot in his ability to speak 
separate words. Say '' Pretty duck." 

BzRD {in a muffled voice). Pretty duck. 

After some further wise observations by the exhibiter, and a 
few more words spoken by the bird, this wonderful production 
of boy and high art retires to the dressing-room, where his 
^'make-up" is revealed. 

First a small boy, with a board bound to his back, crouches 
down; as shown in Fig. 64. He is then stuffed with small pil- 




riG. 64. 
lows, wadding and rags, to the required shape, and a sheet tied 
over the duck-shaped figure. A large ball is made of rags, and 
two flat pieces of stick fastened upon it for a bill, a pair of eyes 
painted on with India-ink, and this head is neatly pinned to the 
body. A tail is then cut from strips of paper, and web feet 
manufactured from an old pair of leather driving-gloves, or, if 
these cannot be procured, of stout brown paper. 

When this extraordinary animal has retired from the public 
gaze the company can indulge in a very ingenious game called 



160 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

What does mj Thought Besemble ? 

The leader writes upon a strip of paper his thought, folds the 
paper and hands it to the umpire. He then goes to each player, 
and asks of every one the question : 

^' What does my thought resemble ?" 

Each one must name some article or fancy in answer, and, 
when all have answered, the umpire opens the paper, and reads 
the ^^ thought " written upon it. 

The leader passing again round the circle requires of each 
one to explain why the thought is like what they have named, 
and the umpire decides whether the answer is sense or non- 
sense. If he pronounces it nonsense the speaker pays a for- 
feit. 

When one thought has passed round the entire circle of play- 
ers a new leader and new umpire are chosen, and another 
thought is written, as before. 

EXAMPLE : 

Suppose a party of ten players. 

The leader, after writing his thought and giving it to the um- 
pire, approaches Number One. 

Leader. I have written out my thought. What does it 
resemble ? 

FiEST Player. Happiness. 

Second Player. Napoleon Bonaparte. 

Third Player. My new hat. 

Fourth Player. A horse-car. 

FiETH Player. Mustard. 

Sixth Player. An axe. 

Seventh Player. A silver dollar. 

Eighth Player. The kitchen clock. 

Ninth Player. The Sultan of Turkey. 

Tenth Player. An old coat. 

Leader. I thought of the sun. Why does it resemble 
happiness ? 



THE TWELFTH EVENING. 161 

PiRST Player. Because our lives would be utterly dark 
■without it. 

Leadek. Why does it resemble Napoleon Bonaparte ? 

Second Player. Because both were sometimes under a 
cloud. 

Leader. Why does it resemble your new hat ? 

Third Player. Because both are overhead. 

Leader. Why does it resemble a horse-car? 

Fourth Player. Because' it would be difficult to do without 
either. 

Leader. Why does it resemble mustard ? 

Flfth Player. Because both can draw a blister. 

Leader. Why does it resemble an axe ? 

SrxTH Player. A stroke from either would be likely to 
prove fatal. 

Leader. Why does it resemble a silver dollar ? 

Seventh Player. Both are round and bright. 

Leader. Why does it resemble the kitchen clock ? 

Eighth Player. Because both mark the hours as they 
pass. 

Leader. Why does it resemble the Sultan of Turkey ? 

Nixth Player. Both rise in the East. 

Leader. Why does it resemble an old coat ? 

Tenth Player. Because there are spots on it. 

The umpire now decides which answers are sufiQciently non- 
sensical to pay a forfeit, and a new thought is written. When 
pencil and paper are not convenient, the thought may be whis- 
pered to the umpire. 

When each one has given a thought, let some one who is ex- 
pert entertain the company with a few 

Hand Shadows. 

These are soon learned in great variety, by simply experiment- 
ing with the hands placed between a bright light and a clear 



162 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



space upon the wall. The two shown in Fig. 65 are easily 
made, and others may soon be discovered with a little patient 
observation. 




Pig. 65. 



A little magic may now be given to astonish the '^country 
members/' the conjurer proving he possesses 

Second Sight. 



^' Ladies and gentlemen : We have all doubtless heard a great 
deal about second sight, or, in other words, the faculty of see- 
ing what may be visible to others but apparently invisible to 
the gifted seer. It really is not as difficult as some might sup- 
pose. Now, for instance, here is a piece of ordinary writing- 
paper, without a mark upon it ; here is a common lead-pencil ; 
any one may take these away from my sight — out of the room if 
he pleases — and write a sentence, or anything he likes, upon 
the paper, fold it carefully, so that the writing cannot be seen 
from the outside, and I will tell him at once correctly and ex- 
actly what he has put on the paper. Allow me to hand you the 
paper and pencil, and some of you will kindly watch me closely 
to prevent my being, by any possibility, able to see what is 
WTitten on the paper." 

Having got thus far, you give the paper and pencil to some 



THE TWELFTH EVENING. 163 

one of the company, and request him to retire out of your sight 
and write something on it ; and we will suppose all this done. 
You now continue : 

'^ Well; sir, you of course are fully aware what is on that piece 
of paper ; and you are also quite satisfied that I could not see 
what you wrote. Have the kindness to fold it up and hold it 
firmly closed in your hand. Pshaw ! that is too easy; you must 
conceal it better than that if you want to hide it from me. Fold it 
up still smaller. That's good. Now place it on the carpet and 
cover it completely with your foot. Very good. But it's all of 
no use ; I can see better than ever what you have put on the 
paper. Why ! you put your foot on it. " 

Supposing the guests sufficiently recovered from the effects of 
the last outrageous sell, we will pass on to a game of 

One! Two! Three ! 

One of the company leaves the room, and the others name 
three famous people. When the absent one returns he is asked 
what he wishes to do with One, Two, and Three. When he has 
answered he is told who were the individuals named. If his 
wishes are impossible he pays a forfeit, but if possible, however 
absurd, he escapes, and another of the party leaves the room. 

EXAMPLE : 

One. George Washington. 

Two. Grand Duke Alexis. 

Theee. Queen Victoria. 

When the leader returns he is asked : 

^^ What will you do with One ? " 

Aisrs. I will send it to Africa. 

'' What will you do with Tivo f " 

Ans. I will put it in the ash-barrel. 

'' What will you do with Three f " ' 

Aks. I will make it President of the United States. 

You must pay two forfeits. One is George Washington ; it 



164 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

would be possible to send him to Africa, as we make no allow- 
ance for heroes being dead and buried. But our second is Duke 
Alexis; you cannot put him in the ash-barrel. And our third is 
Queen Victoria, whom you cannot make President of the United 
States. 

Leadee. I'll pay the forfeit for Victoria, but not for Alexis. 
It is absurd to talk of putting him in an ash-barrel, but I will 
not admit it to be impossible, provided the barrel is big enough 
and the Duke willing. 

The next party goes out. 

One. Byron. 

Two. Louis Napoleon. 

Three. Florence Nightingale. 

^' What will you do with One f '' 

Ans. Let him drive an express wagon. 

" What will you do with Two f " 

Ans. Send him to Siberia. 

^' What will you do with Three V 

Ans. Impale him on a church steeple. 

Did he pay any forfeits? 

When the company have each had the disposal of three dis- 
tinguished characters invite them all to join in a comical con- 
cert called 

The German Chorus. 

Provide each guest with a wine-glass and a spoon, and tell 
them at what point in the music they are to strike lightly upon 
the edge of the glass with the spoon. When the music is re- 
peated they clap hands at the same place the second time ; the 
third time the gentlemen are all to whistle ; at the fourth rep- 
etition all are to laugh; and the fifth is a grand finale of the 
spoons. The air is to be played upon the piano, from the fol- 
lowing music, the dotted notes requiring the spoon (or otlier) 
accompaniment, which all must perform with perfect precision : 



IRE TWELFTH EVENING. 



165 




^ ^-= ^="=^""^^ 3 = ^^=^ ^ 




^^BhIe^^^^ 



w 



:g: ig: .^ ig: :«: 



spoons 



:i=t: 



:f: -^* 



^3r 



-£tr 




Ha - rum Bca - rum, Ha - rum sea - rum, Hi de did - die did - die 




This ludicrous concert should be practised together by a suffi- 
cient number of the performers to lead the new ones, and when 



166 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

this is accomplished, the more spoons, hands, whistles and 
voices are added, the better, as the idea is not exactly to pro- 
duce melodious efifects. 

Familiar airs, such as ^' Yankee Doodle," ^^ Tramp, tramp, 
tramp," or others that are well accented, may be tried with the 
same accompaniments at regular intervals, and will be found 
very amusing. It must be remembered that perfect time is ab- 
solutely essential. 

Another recreation may now be started, to close the amuse- 
ments for the evening, and give all a good chance for a final 
exercise of their powers of puzzling and guessing, before break- 
ing up. 

The Hidden Word. 

In this game a player leaves the room. While he is absent 
the others fix upon a word, which they are bound to introduce 
into every answer they make until it is guessed. The absent 
player returns and can ask each player a question until he 
guesses the hidden word, or until he has had an answer from 
every one, when, if he fails to discover it, he must go out again. 
If he guesses, the speaker whose answer betrayed the word 
must go out. 

The word selected should not be a remarkable one, but some- 
thing easily introduced, as and, hut, for, or some such word. 
The speaker must be very careful not to emphasize it in any 
answer. 

EXAMPLE : 

The word selected is all. 

Leadek. Have you selected a very difficult word for me this 
time ? 

Aks. I believe we all tried to make it as puzzling as possible 
for you. 

Leader. May I inquire your opinion of the ancient Greeks ? 

AI^^s. My opinion is, that they were all dead and buried so 
long ago that it is useless to try to revive them. 



TRE TWELFTH EVENING. 187 

Leadee. May I inquire what you had for dinner ? 

Aifs. Meat, vegetables, dessert, bread, butter, pickles ; in 
short, all that is usually placed upon a dinner -table. 

Leader. Do you admire Offenbach ? 

Ais^s. Some of his operas please me very much, but not all 
of them. I suppose everybody has a favorite one. 

Leader. How is your grandmother ? 

Ans. Thank you. When I last heard from the old lady she 
and all the family were in good health. 

Leader. Who do you like best in this company ? 

At^s. That is scarcely a fair question to put so publicly; I 
like all so well that I really must decline to make a selection. 

Leader. Who is your favorite author ? 

A:n'S. Let me see. I cannot recall all my favorites at a mo- 
ment's notice. My favorite novelist is Dickens j my favorite 
poet is Byron ; my favorite historian is Prescott. 

Leader. I think I find the word all in each of the answers, 
and the fact began to dawn on my inquiring mind when Mr. 
G gave me his answer. 

Mr. G then leaving the room, a new word is selected and 

the game goes round again. 



168 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 



Jhirt^^jmth %VZ]\\]\(\. 



Ladies and gentlemen : Being assembled together for festive 
purposes, premeditatedly and with malice aforethought, we will 
inaugurate the performers of this evening by an introduction to 

The Hutchinson Family. 

Several of the party who do not know the trick of the game 
must be selected to leave the room, while the others are instructed 
in their parts. One of the absent ones is then recalled and in- 
troduced as Mr. or Miss Hutchinson. 

The remainder of the party must then imitate exactly every 
movement made by this member of the Hutchinson family, even 
of the most trifling description. Tf the unconscious leader moves 
an arm, every arm in the company makes the same m'svement; 
if any play of feature, such as a look of surprise, follows, every 
one in the company assumes the same expression ; if a wonder- 
ing look is given around the room, the head moving to each 
side, all make precisely the same gesture. This procedure is 
continued until Mr. or Miss Hutchinson Number One sees into 
the little game, and ends it by taking a seat in motionless quiet. 
Hutchinson Number Two is next ushered in to go through the 
same ceremonial, and the game is repeated until the Hutchin- 
son family is extinct. 

It sometimes happens that a quick-witted Hutchinson will 
find out the trick before acknowledging the discovery, and lead 
the others a dance they did not anticipate, as one merry young 
lady, " seeing the point," walked slowly and with great gravity 
up and down a long drawing-room, and out of one door into the 



TRE TRIBTEENTR EVENING. 169 

hall, across this into the room again, and round the room, all the 
others following her till they cried for mercy. 

A gentleman, after staring, yawning, and making horrible 
grimaces at his imitators, suddenly commenced a series of taps 
on each side of his nose with the forefingers of both hands, and 
with constantly increasing rapidity, all trying to follow him, till 
they were so convulsed with laughter that they were forced 
to admit the joke was all in his hands. 

When the game has been played with all the victims produce 
two packs of cards, and deal them out to the company for a 
game of 

Catechism Cards. 

The party must be divided into two parts, and one pack is 
divided amongst each, being dealt out as in whist. 

The leader then asks a question, at the same time names a 
card, and whoever possesses that card must answer the ques- 
tion. 

It is sometimes played by giving one pack to the leader, and 
letting him ask all the questions, but it is a more interesting 
game to have the questions put in regular rotation all round the 
circle. 

If the company are divided, by the ladies taking one pack 
and the gentlemen another, the questions and answers may be 
saucier and more pointed. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader {holding one pack). Nine of Hearts ! Who has not 
paid for the suit he is wearing ? 

Nine of Hearts. That's me ! 

Leader. Whose boots are too tight ■? Ace of Clubs ! 

Ace of Clubs. Mine. 

The fun is decidedly increased by the cards being all dealt 
out, and the player who makes an answer giving the next 
question. 



170 WJSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadee. Ten of Spades ! Who staid from church on Sun- 
day, because her new bonnet was not becoming ? 

Ten of Spades. 'Twas me {asking a question in turn). 
Four of Diamonds ! Who eats onions ? 

Four of Diamonds. I do {asks question in turn). 

Thus each one holding answering cards has a chance for a 
question. 

Where the ladies hold one pack, and the gentlemen the other, 
there is also much scope for funny questions. 

EXAMPLE : 

Ace of Clubs {lady). Five of Hearts ! Who secretly adores me ? 

Five of Hearts {gentleman). I do! Too bad of you to 

betray me, Miss . Seven of Spades ! Who sent me an 

anonymous bouquet yesterday ? 

Seven of Spades {lady). I did. 

And so on. 

When the players tire of this game, and while the cards are 
still out, let some expert player show the party an interesting 
trick, which he must study a little beforehand. 

Taking only one pack, and performing all preliminary flour- 
ishes, he exhibits 

The Tell-Tale Ten. 

Ten cards are arranged in a row, faces downward, on the 
table ; a spectator is requested to transfer, in the performer's 
absence, as many of the cards as he chooses from the left end of 
the row to the right end, one at a time, and in regular rotation. 
The tf ick consists in turning one of the cards face up, the spots 
on which will correspond with the number of cards transferred. 
This may be repeated as often as wished, the spots on the turn- 
ed -up card always corresponding with the number of cards last 
transferred. 

To perform this effective trick, select privately ten cards, 



THE TRIBTEENTR EVENING. ^A 

commencing with the ace, followed by the deuce, trey, etc., up 
to the ten (it is not necessary for them to he all of the same 
suit ; in fact, it looks better to have all the suits represented) ; 
lay them down in rotation from left to right, the ace at the left 
end, the deuce next, etc., ending with the ten to the right. 
Invite some person among the spectators to transfer from the 
left end to the right end, in your absence, any number of the 
cards he wishes, under the condition that he must move the 
cards one at a time, and in regular rotation. Having explained 
(and, if necessary, shown) how it is to be done, retire. On your 
return turn up the right-hand end card ; the spots on it will 
show how many cards have been transferred. Thus, if four 
cards were moved the four-spot will be the end card, and when 
turned up will tell its own tale. Eecollect the number of cards 
that have been transferred this time (in this instance four), re- 
quest some other party to malie a fresh transfer from the cards 
just as they stand, and again retire. On your return count four 
cards (the number first removed), commencing with the right- 
hand end card, from right to left, and turn up the next (the 
fifth) card. Supposing that, in this second transfer, three cards 
have been moved, the fifth from the right will be the trey-spot. 
Now, recollect seven, the sum of the previous transfers (re- 
spectively four and three) ; repeat the trick by requesting an- 
other transfer of the cards, then- count from right to left as be- 
fore, seven cards, and turn up the eighth. If six cards have been 
moved this last time, the eighth card will be the six-spot. This 
makes thirteen (four, three, and six) cards removed altogether ; 
drop the ten, and recollect three, counting off next time three 
cards, and turning up the fourth. This may be repeated as 
often as desired, always recollecting the total number of cards 
previously transferred (rejecting ten, whenever the sum exceeds 
ten). If at any time the turned-up card is the ten-spot, this 
shows that either none at all, or all, have been moved. In this 
case it is best to declare that none have been moved ; if this is 
not so, then the entire ten have been transferred, and you must 



172 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

explain that it was a useless transfer, as it leaves the cards vir- 
tually as they were before. 

While this trick is being exhibited an ambitious boy has been 
transformed into a 

Midniglit Screecher, 

and is led into the room with an impromptu speech, describing his 
origin, habits and peculiarities. His appearance, as represented 
in Fig. QQj being sufiftciently commented upon, the showman 
may introduce a short speech, explaining its manners and habits. 




^•'His name, ladies and gentlemen, was given him in conse- 
quence of the peculiarity of his voice, which resembles that of 
no other known animal. {Screecher gives some unearthly groans, 
screams, and whistles.) He is not an agreeable neighbor, or 
inmate of the family, on account of his regular habit of giving 



Fig. 67. 



a little solo concert, of the kind you have heard, precisely at 
midnight. " 



THE THIBTEENTH EVENING. 173 

The novel quadruped having retired to the dressing-room 
and removed a large black railway blanket, which covered him, 
reveals a boy, as seen in Fig. Q7. 

Upon his hands are a pair of boots, and on his head a cap 
made of stiff brown paper^ with a mouth of vermilion, and eyes 
of lamp-black. 

The company, having complimented the smart boy, are ready 
for a game of 

Twenty Questions. 

One of the company leaves the room, and the others fix upon 
some word or object that he is to guess when he returns. The 
absent one, then coming in, has the privilege of asking twenty 
questions, which must be answered truthfully, by the players, 
each of whom answers one question in turn. If the guesser is 
enlightened by any player's answer that player goes out. If, 
after twenty questions, he cannot guess the word or object, he 
must go out again, while a new word is chosen. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader {having gone out tvJiile a ivord was selected). Is it 
animal, vegetable, or mineral 1 

Ans. It can be made of all three or any one. 

Leadee. It is a manufactured article then? 

Aisrs. Invariably. 

Leader. Is it round or square ? 

An"S. Both round and square. 

Leader. Can it be made in any other shape ? 

Ans. Yes, the variety of shape is very great. 

Leader. Is there one in the room ? 

AiTS. Yes. ■ 

Leader. With how many legs ? 

AiSrs. One with four legs, and one with only one. 

Leader. The tables ! You must go out. 

When the questions have been asked by each in turn the 
conjurer may again win a triumph by proving he is able to play 



174 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Dominoes Blind-fold. . 

It is a simple thing to play a game of dominoes, each player 
laying his domino face upward, as both players can see plainly 
what they have to do ; but to play a game, setting the dominoes 
faces downward, and yet, on subsequent examination, find that 
the dominoes match each other perfectly, is apparently a diffi- 
cult feat ; and still nothing is easier to accomplish or more likely 
to create a genuine surprise to those looking on. 

Having selected an opponent from among the company (onC; 
of course, with whom you have had a previous opportunity of 
explaining the matter), you sit down opposite one another at 
a small table, lay out the dominoes, faces doivn, as usual, and 
request one of the company to shuffle them thoroughly ; each 
player then selects seven dominoes and looks at them exactly 
as in the regular, open game. 

During the shuffling you and your opponent hare been quietly 
arranging your feet under the table in such a manner that each 
player's right toe rests on his opponent's left toe. You now lead, 
say double -five, face downward, informing the other player of 
the fact by five gentle taps on his toe with your right foot ; he 
plays, say five-three, which you know by feeling three taps of 
your opponent's right foot on your left toe ; and so the game con- 
tinues until one or the other makes domino. The winner then 
makes some remark, asking, for instance, whether at the third 
set his opponent is sure he did not make some mistake, etc., 
merely to give the loser time to toe-telegraph to the winner 
how many spots he has left in his hand (say eight), which the 
winner coolly announces to the spectators, saying, for in&tance, 
^' Well, if no mistake has been made, give me eight," which, of 
course, is found correct. 

When a blank is played no toe-signal is given, and when you 
find you cannot play you may sagaciously smell the dominoes 
on the table and say you cannot play ; if both cannot play, a 
little conversation must be made up to give each time to tell the 



THE THIETEENTH EVENING. 175 

other how many spots he holds. We will suppose the game 
blocked ; you hold eleven spots in your hand, and your opponent 
fourteen ; to gain time you raise a question about the second set 
in the game, and tap eleven on his toe, in answer to which he taps 
fourteen on yours ; you then say, ^^ Well, it's no use talking; you've 
got fourteen ;" your opponent says, ^' I know ; take them ; you've 
only eleven." 

This game should rarely be repeated, as enterprising bystand- 
ers might, a second time, look under the table, and your little 
game would be really blocked. 

This is a good game to play at the close of an evening's 
entertainment, as it sends the company home with a knotty 
puzzle to ponder over, and keeps up a lively recollection of it, 
as well as of the other performances that have been introduced 
during th6 eyening. 



176 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



]p^OUF(TEENTH JJvjENIJMQ. 
Tableaux— Yivants. 

The arrangements for an evening's performance of tableaux 
vivants, or living pictures, afford a scope for almost unlimited 
expenditure, or may be made effective and pleasing at com- 
paratively trifling expense. 

Where the means will allow, a platform stage, with footlights, 
and some scenery, is the most desirable ; but if this cannot be 
managed, a parlor with folding-doors will make an excellent 
stage, while the other parlor, opening into it, makes an appro- 
priate auditorium. In either case the following directions will 
be found useful in the arrangement of stage, scenery, furniture, 
curtains, background, costumes and light. 

It must be borne in mind that a tableau vivant is a living 
j[)icture, and is intended to resemble, as closely as possible, a 
painted picture upon a large scale. Artistic rules and taste are 
therefore invaluable in their direction, and the stage-manager 
should have an eye for color, graceful grouping, and general 
effect. Light and shadow, bright and sombre coloring, must be 
contrasted and combined to make the pictures perfect. 

The first requisite is a frame, which must fit exactly into the 
front of the stage, whether this is a raised platform, or merely 
a parlor. Four pieces of wood, an inch thick, and about one 
foot in width, are neatly joined at the corners, and over the en- 
tire open space is fastened a coarse black lace, through wiiich 
all the pictures are to be seen. The wooden frame must now 
be covered with glazed cambric, bright yellow in color, which 
IS drawn tightly over the wood and fastened securely, being 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 177 

neatly drawn over the edges. At regular intervals fasten large, 
full rosettes of the cambric. It is a great improvement, though 
not necessary, to mix black with the rosettes, and carry a nar- 
row strip of black all round the inner and outer edges of the 
frame. Upon the inside of the frame fasten several curtains of 
colored gauze, blue for ghostly scenes, and rose-color for fairy 
scenes. Arrange these so that they can be lowered or raised 
easily when required. The frame is now ready to put up. 

If you have a pair of full, handsome crimson curtains, they 
are very effective placed upon a bar inside the frame, about 
one foot from it, and looped at the sides, high enough to clear 
the heads of the performers. The curtain to be raised and 
lowered should be hung about two feet from the frame on the 
inside. 

When your frame is up, fasten at regular intervals little can- 
dlesticks for the candles to light the tableaux, and small shelves 
or brackets to hold the saucers of colored fire. 

The frame now being ready, stretch across the sides of the 
stage and background dark gray or brown muslin, or woolen 
cloth. 

The best arrangement for a background is a semi-circle of 
strong wire, supported at regular intervals by posts, from which 
the dark muslin or woolen falls in scant folds. One at each 
side, and one at the back of the stage, form a perfect back- 
ground for any style of picture. 

The frame at the back should be sufficiently removed from 
the wall to allow the furniture that will be required to be com- 
pletely stored out of sight until it is needed. 

If the parlor is used as a stage the floor should also be cov- 
ered with plain dark cloth, that can be removed when the scene 
requires a parlor carpet. 

It must be remembered that carpet and background must be 
of woolen material, or unglazed cotton. Any material that will 
shine in a strong light will ruin the effect of a tableau. Wool- 
en is by far the best, as it completely absorbs the light. 



178 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

The stage now being in readiness^ the next subject for con' 
sideration is the furniture. 

For such tableaux as do not require painted scenery, the ar- 
rangement of such a stage as described is very simple, but a 
few scenes will be given as guides. 

For a garden scene, a couple of rustic benches, one at each 
side, a vine trailed over a large open frame in the background, 
a few flower-pots at the sides and back, and a pair of rustic 
chairs, are very effective. If the scenery can be painted, this 
scene may be made into an out-door scene by the introduction 
of a painted house at one side, such as a cottage door, a tavern 
door, or even the door of a country house, with high marble 
steps. 

It can be transformed into an effective moonlight scene by 
cutting a large round hole in the curtain at the background, 
covering this with silver gauze, and throwing all the light 
through this opening, having immediately behind it a globe of 
clear water, through which the light strikes. If this does not 
sufi&ciently light the stage, two candles, one on each side of the 
frame, may be lighted, but a strong light in front will complete- 
ly destroy any moonlight illusion. 

For a farm kitchen, place in the background a large, un- 
painted pine table, having upon it some homely crockery, a 
brown pitcher, and one or two tins. The chairs should be of 
unpainted wood, and an old-fashioned arm-chair or rocking- 
chair is an effective addition. A rustic bird-cage, a churn in 
one corner, or any article of country use may be introduced. 
A spinning-wheel is very good, and can easily be imitated by 
even an imperfect artist. 

A good gypsy scene may be made by introducing upon the 
stage a rough tent made from a sheet, a table with bottles, 
glasses and cards, and a few cooking utensils. The interior of 
a tent can be imitated by hanging white drapery from the sides 
and background, and placing a long pole upright in the centre 
of the stage, being careful that the top is out of sight. If a 



THE FOVBTEENTH EVENING. 179 

military tent is wanted, a low iron bedstead, a table with writ- 
ing materials, a camp-stool, and some articles of military use, 
as a sword and belt or musket, should be introduced. If a 
gypsy tent, cooking utensils should lie carelessly upon the 
ground, and a rough mattress be spread for a bed in one corner. 

A market-place is a very effective scene, but somewhat 
troublesome to arrange. The stalls should run up and down 
the sides of the stage, and vegetables made of colored tissue- 
paper, meat of painted wood, and flowers be arranged with due 
regard for artistic effect. 

Where a court-room is required the background must be 
raised by means of a platform, and the judge's seat, witness- 
box, prisoner's stand, and so on, arranged as nearly as possible 
in imitation of the actual court-room. 

Many very effective tableaux require this scene, as ^^ The 
Trial of Effie Deans," and others of the same description. 

For a prison scene, a low pallet bed, a stone pitcher standing 
upon the floor, a chain and a wooden bench, are all that are re- 
quired. 

An attic scene is most easily represented, as a poor wooden 
table with a candle upon it, stuck in a porter-bottle, a chair 
with a broken back, and some mean article of diet, are suf- 
ficient for the purpose. 

A drawing-room scene merely requires the usual furniture of 
a drawing-room, but care should be taken not to crowd the 
stage. The lighter the articles, and the fewer in number, the 
better. 

A bedroom scene is managed by draping white muslin cur- 
tains from a frame, as if hanging from an old-fashioned four- 
post bed. The usual articles of bedroom furniture should be 
added, in keeping with the scene to be given, of rich or poor 
character. 

A boudoir scene requires a table draped with white over pink 
or blue, supporting a showy mirror ; a lounge or sofa^ a table, 
and a few chairs. 



180 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

A nursery scene requires a cradle, low rocking-chair, and a 
few large toys, such as a rocking-horse or baby -house. 

A scene at a well is very effective for a tableau, and very 
easily arranged. The well is made of a flour-barrel covered 
with gray cloth, or a large round table with gray cloth fastened 
smoothly around it. From each side rise wooden posts, and a 
round bar is placed across, from which hang the chain and 
bucket. Over the gray cloth are drawn narrow white cords to 
imitate mortar between stones, and a vine carelessly running 
along the side gives a pleasing finish to the scene. 

For a studio, an easel, a chair or two, a lay-figure, and one 
or two pictures appearing to rest against the walls, are all nec- 
essary furniture. If a sitter is introduced, a chair upon a small 
raised platform is needed. 

For a royal court, have a raised platform across the back- 
ground, and upon this arrange two thrones or one, according as 
the occasion requires a king, a queen, or both. The throne 
should be made of large arm-chairs, draped with crimson or 
purple, and the platform upon which they stand should be cov- 
ered with drapery of the same color. The throne is all the fur- 
niture required for royal scenes, and should be made as superb 
as possible. One of the best arrangements for the background 
of a throne is tbe head-board of a modern French bedstead, 
covered with gilt paper pressed into the carving, the lower part 
draped to match the covering of the platform and seats. 

A convent cell should be furnished with a small table, upon 
which is a crucifix, an antique lamp, a skull (if procurable), a 
stone pitcher, and a prayer-book. An iron bedstead and low 
chair complete the scene. 

An office scene requires only a desk and one or two chairs, d 
few books, papers, pen and ink upon the desk, and a calendar 
against the wall. 

The parlor of an inn needs only a table, heaped with shawls, 
satchels and baskets, a hard, uninviting-looking sofa, and a few 
chabs. 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 181 

A very pretty scene for a tableau is that of a fancy fair. Two 
stalls are quite sufficient, and may be made by covering two 
small tables with white cloths prettily decorated with colored 
ribbons or muslin. Flowers and fancy articles can be placed 
upon these tables in artistic profusion, and no other furniture 
need be used. 

The costumes for tableaux, though they must be effective and 
artistic in color, contrast and combination, certainly would be 
useless for any other occasion. The black lace which is stretch- 
ed over the frame gives a softness to all materials, and gorgeous 
effects may be produced from very cheap materials. 

As the figures stand perfectly motionless, the drapery for the 
character may often be arranged to be seen only from the front. 
We have seen one side of a superb royal mantle drape Queen 
Elizabeth for the audience, while her majesty presented to the 
manager's gaze a very pretty modern evening silk, her robes 
only covering one arm and shoulder, and falling only on one 
side. Crowns, helmets and shields need be finished on one side 
only, and we have even seen one magnificent boot of the last 
century in full view, while a mantle hid a modern dancing boot. 

Ermine can be perfectly imitated for the edge of royal robes, 
by white canton flannel, with little tabs of black worsted sewn 
upon it. Paper muslin, or very glossy cambric, is a perfect 
imitation of satin. Cotton velvet is quite as rich-looking as the 
finest silk from a Lyons' loom, and a very perfect imitation of 
lace can be cut from white or black paper. 

One of the most superb court costumes at a recent tableau 
party was: A white-satin petticoat (of glossy cambric), with a 
crimson (cotton) velvet train with broad ermine border (of can- 
ton-flannel with black-worsted tabs). The waist of the dress was 
of crimson, with a very deep berthe of white lace (made from one 
of the strips of white tissue-paper that are sold to hang from 
the ceiling in fly-time). The boots were of the same material as 
the petticoat, stretched over the usual walking-boot. The crown 
of gilt paper and heavy bracelets of the same costly material. 



182 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NLGHTf 

In dressing for a country scene the stage peasant is better 
for a model than the actual inhabitants of a modern farm-house. 

Costumes for very old men require wig, beard and eyebrows 
made from cotton-wadding, while old ladies will want a neat 
front, straight or curled, of white horsehair. 

In grouping, the color must be very carefully selected to pre- 
vent either glaring or gloomy effect. Often a piece of gay 
drapery thrown over a chair will enliven a picture where all 
the figures are in the dark evening-dress of a gentleman of the 
present day, but where ladies are grouped their own dress is 
usually sufficiently bright. 

Never bring two bright colors against each other. If they 
are necessary in the same group, introduce between them some 
white, black" .or neutral -tinted drapery. If they are light, as 
well as bright, use gray or brown to harmonize them. 

White should always be sparingly and judiciously used in 
tableaux, and should be of either very glossy fabric, or very 
thin material, as tulle, book muslin or lace. Thick white ma- 
terial, like lawn, marseilles or pique, is not effective in tableaux. 

The arrangement of color in tableaux must be governed by 
the same rule as in painted pictures, and it must be borne in 
mind that not only the personages who are grouped for the pic- 
ture are to be considered, but the accessories and background 
will also strike the eye of the spectator at the same time. 

A few hints upon color in tableaux dresses will aid the stage- 
manager. 

Scarlet has a brilliant effect trimmed with gold ; it harmon- 
izes well with white, and trims drab, gray, or light neutral col- 
ors. Is effective with black lace, fur, or swan's-down. Being 
vivid and dazzling, should be used sparingly. 

Crimson, being more subdued, will bear contrast with very 
dark blue. 

Pink should be subdued with black lace, and is effective 
with silver trimming ; suits only the young, and may be worn 
of a vivid tint by brunettes. 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 183 

Blue must be very deep or very bright. Gas or candle-light 
entirely destroys light blue, and it is a very poor color for 
tableaux. 

Yellow is entirely lost^ but the deeper shades of orange are 
effective relieved by black velvet or lace. 

Green is a poor tableau color, being lost in candle or gas-light. 

Deep purple is a valuable color, and may often be effectively 
used in masses. It trims well with gold, gold-lace or fur. 

Black can be often effectively placed to throw out or subdue 
more vivid tints, and all the neutral colors are of great value. 

The style of the performers, masculine and feminine, should 
be carefully considered in tableau costumes, as what will call 
for loud applause upon one style of beauty will be utterly lost 
upon another style, though an equal proportion of beauty may 
exist. 

The brunette has her rich black hair and olive complexion 
emphasized and heightened by rich bright colors, diamonds, and 
golden ornaments, while the blonde will enhance the spirituelle 
style of her loveliness by thin white draperies, pearls, and light 
soft coloring. 

The '^make-up" of faces for tableaux requires the use of 
good water-colors, some fine white chalk or ^4ily- white," cam- 
el's-hair pencils and dry rouge. 

The expression of the face may be heightened by standing 
before a mirror, assuming the required smile, frown, grin or 
scowl, and tracing the lines in fine reddish-brown water-color 
with a camel's-hair pencil. 

The forefinger should mark the rouge, and soften the edges 
by gentle rubbing. 

A hollow hungry look may be given to the jolliest of faces by 
smearing under the eyes, the sides of the cheeks, and under 
the lower lip with burnt cork, being careful to soften the edges. 
A decided line of burnt cork running, from the comer of the 
nose to the corner of the mouth on each side will produce the 
effect of emaciation. 



184 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

A tableau dressing-room should be well provided with wigs, 
false whiskers and moustaches, and other important additioiis 
to the natural face. 

Colored lights are a very effective additi^ji to many scenes, 
and are not difficult to manufacture or use. 

Eed light, which adds greatly to the beauty of martial, 
heroic, or fairy scenes, is produced by this receipt, exactly/ fol- 
lowed : 

Five ounces of dry nitrate of strontia ; one and a half ounces 
of finely-powdered sulphur ; five drachms of chlorate of potash, 
and four drachms of sulphuret of antimony, powdered sepa- 
rately in a mortar. Mix the two last-named ingredients upon 
paper. Mix the other ingredients together, having powdered 
each separately ; add the two last and rub all well together on 
paper. For use, mix a little spirits of wine with the powder, 
and burn in a flat iron pan standing in a large dish of dry sand. 

Green fire, which suits the poverty-stricken scenes, and any 
sea views, may be made by powdering separately, and after- 
wards mixing well together, thirteen parts of flour of sulphur, 
five parts oxymuriate of potassa, two parts metallic arsenic, 
and three parts pulverized charcoal. Then take seventy-seven 
parts of nitrate of baryta, dry it carefully, powder it, and mix 
the whole thoroughly. 

These preparations all being objectionable, on account of the 
smell and danger of fire, a substitute may be made by filling 
large globes with colored water, and allowing the light to strike 
through them. 

Where a ghostly effect is desired, it can be obtained by the 
following light: 

Mix some common salt with spirits of wine, in a metal cup, 
and set it upon a wire frame over a spirit-lamp. When the cup 
becomes heated, and the spirits- of wine ignited, shade the spirit- 
lamp and extinguish all the other lights. The scene then seen 
by this ghostly flame will be unearthly in its pallor, all color 
being reduced to a dingy yellow tint. When expense is not an 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 185 

objection, a calcium light is by far the best for teibleaux, on ae- 
counfc of its perfect purity and brilliance, and the heavy, well- 
defined shadows it throws ; and any color may be produced by 
passing its rays through a piece of the requisite colored glass. 

Supposing now, that our readers understand all that is nec- 
essary for preparation, we will give a few tableaux, for our 
evening's entertainment.* 

A very beautiful tableau is that of a wreath of young girls or 
children, called 

Living Mo^^ers. 

A number of wooden boxes, rising in height one above the 
other, are arranged so as to form a circle ; or a number of seats 
are built to effect the same purpose, reaching from the front of 
the stage to the ceiling in the background. The gallery of an 
infant-school might be borrowed for the purpose, and the fore- 
ground managed with boxes. This circle should be ten feet in 
diameter. The boxes or seats should be entirely covered with 
white cloth -, the space in the centre of the circle with pink 
cambric. 

The ^'Living Flowers " should be dressed in white muslin, 
with low neck and short sleeves, and not very wide or full 
skirts. The hair of each one should be worn in curls or loose 
crimped waves, and crowned with a wreath of flowers, real or 
artificial, each one wearing only one kind of flower, with its 
appropriate leaves. Thus one wears white roses ; one, pink 
roses ; another, violets ; another, fuchsias ; and so on, suiting 
the colors of the flowers to the complexion of the wearer, the 
brunettes appropriating the geraniums, the crimson roses and 
camelias ) and the blondes, the violets and blue-bells, leaving 
the brown-haired beauties the soft-tinted hues of the carna- 
tions, and the auburn-haired ones the pure white jessamines, 
the lilies of the valley, and the ivy leaves. 

* A large collection of tableaux of every description will be found in the " Book of 
Tableaux," published by Dick & Fitzgerald. 



186 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

The smallest performer must be placed at the top of the 
wreath, exactly in the centre of the background. She must re- 
cline in an easy position, resting her head on her hand, the elbow 
touching the box ; the next in size must take her place on the 
box, or sit beneath, on the right side, and rest her arm upon 
the lap of the first child, her head leaning on her hand, her face 
turned toward the centre of the circle, the eyes raised to those 
of the figure above. The remaining figures take similar posi- 
tions on the right and left of the central figure, until one-half of 
the circle is completed. The other half of the circle is ar- 
ranged in a similar manner, but the figures face the audience, 
as in the half at the background ; the smallest, as before, start- 
ing this half of the wreath from the centre of the foreground. A 
large wreath of spruce, fir, holly, ivy, and trails of paper flow- 
ers, must be put inside the circle and fastened up to their seats. 
Small festoons of green are to be placed between, and wreathed 
round the figures. The light for this picture must come from 
foot-lights, across the front of the stage, and should be very bril- 
liant. 

This tableau, when finished, appears, at a little distance, like 
a beautiful wreath of lovely faces, but the arrangement of the 
seats require a carpenter and some outlay. We therefore 
suggest two or three more tableaux of an easier description. 

Tell, Shooting the Apple from his Son's 
Head. 

The scenery must be painted.* An Alpine landscape with a 
Swiss cottage, in the distance, must be represented. A green 
cloth must cover the foreground, on which Tell stands, his ar- 
row fixed in the act of shooting. His young son, with band- 
aged eyes, stands firmly at the given distance, with the apple 
upon his head. In the background sits Gessler in armor, sur- 

* Full descriptions for painting scenery are given on page 293. 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 187 

rounded by bis guards. At tbe sides stand Swiss peasants, 
young and old, as many as tbe number of tbe performers will 
allow. 

Tbe dress must be tbat of tbe Swiss peasantry of tbe period, 
wbile Gessler and bis guard wear tbe Austrian uniform of tbe 
time. Tbe faces must all be turned toward Tell and bis son, 
and sbould express fear, pity and anxiety. G-essler sbould lean 
upon a buge sword, witb an air of baugbty disdam. 

Titania and Puck. 

Tbe stage may be made a perfect green wood, by putting 
bougbs of trees, and large pots of sbrubs and small trees in it. 
A mossy bank may be made of green clotb. Flowers of gay 
hues sbould be dispersed among tbe scenery. On tbe bank, 
Titania, represented by a beautiful sunny-baired cbild, may lie 
asleep, folded in a regal mantle of crimson or purple, and 
crowned witb flowers and crystallized sprays. Her suite, rep- 
resented by a group of little girls, stand around ber. Tbey 
must be smaller tban berself, and dressed in different colors, 
their dresses being made of tbin tulle, gauze, or other light ma- 
terial, spangled, and looped witb flowers. Wreaths sbould be 
worn on their beads, and their hair crimped or curled and 
floating free. Their wings sbould be made of silver gauze, and 
their tiny wands of bazle and flowers, or tipped witb silver stars. 
On the left side Puck is seen, peeping mischievously at them. 
He holds a heartsease in his hand, the magic flower which he 
has been ordered to rub on tbe Queen's eyes. He wears a quaint 
dress of gay silk of different colors, cut in points at tbe edge of 
the short trousers and skirt of coat ; upon bis bead a pointed 
cap of tbe same gay colors ; and upon bis feet crimson or scarlet 
boots with gilt heels. 

On the other side Helena and Hermia are just visible in the 
distance, represented by older girls, dressed in Greek costume. 
They stand looking angrily at each other, as if quarreling. 



188 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

The light should be soft, to resemble moonlight, in this picture, 
or moonlight may be thrown upon the scene, as described in the 
stage directions on page 178. 

King Alfred in the S^v\^inelierd's Hnt. 

The King is seated upon a low, rough stool, leaning his head 
on his hand, and looking at the fire. The cakes lie burned upon 
the hearth. An old woman is standing near, her hand raised 
to strike him. In the distance you perceive the Saxon thanes 
approaching. The scenery of this tableau must also be painted. 
It is the interior of a rude Anglo-Saxon hut. Painted red-hot 
logs of wood are lying on the hearth. The dress of all the fig- 
ures must be of the period. Alfred, as a peasant, wears a 
smock frock, and long fair hair on his shoulders. The old wo- 
man wears the peasant costume of the times, with coif, petti- 
coat, etc. 

In the arrangement of tableau groups, the best plan is first 
to consult all the good paintings or engravings that are attain- 
able, then the poets and novelists, selecting striking situations 
and scenes. Guard against overcrowding the scene. Two or 
three figures, with very little furniture, will make a far more 
effective* tableau, than where the stage is crowded with figures 
and ^^ cut up " by furniture. Masses are better than scattered 
effects, as the time allowed must necessarily be short, and the 
eye should be filled at once, not obliged to dart rapidly from 
one point in the picture to another. 

Shakspeare offers scene after scene for beautiful tableaux. 
Every play is full of them, and there is unlimited scope for beau- 
tiful dresses. 

Ophelia's madness, Lady Macbeth washing her hands in 
sleep, Hamlet and the Queen when the ghost interrupts them, 
and many others. Scott also ofiers innumerable tableaux; 
Ivanhoe, Woodstock, The Heart of Mid Lothian, and other 
novels, are filled with scenes suitable for living pictures, and his 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 189 

poems are peculiarly adapted to them. Marmion might be rep- 
resented almost entire in scenes, so full is it of striking situa- 
tions. Dickens offers the stage-manager a variety of humorous 
pictures to vary the programme. 

It requires great tact to manage these mimic scenes, so that 
the audience will not be wearied by long pauses between them. 
Each should be so arranged that the next one will be ready in- 
stantly to succeed it, and the same performers should never be 
in two tableaux that are near together. 

One programme is offered as a guide for the desirable variety 
in an evening's performance. Ten or twelve are as many as 
should be attempted for one evening. 

First, a historical subject, as 

Penn's Treaty ^vv^ith. the Indians. 

The famous treaty-tree may be represented by a column of 
wood, covered with imitation bark, and reaching above the top 
of the tableau frame. William Penn, in full Quaker dress, stands 
near this, holding a parchment in his hand ; while near him are 
grouped three or four Indians, their fine feathers, paint, beads 
and gay blankets offering a strong contrast to the simplicity of 
Penn's costume. 

Second, a scene from Byron : 

Giilnare Visiting Conrad in Prison. 

The prison scene must be in a dim light. Upon a mattress, 
centre of stage, Conrad hes asleep, facing audience. He should 
wear a rich dress. Bending over him, holding a lamp in one 
hand, which she shades with the other, is Gulnare,* in a dress 
of pure white, loose hair, and an expression of great pity. Drop 
a curtain of blue gauze. 

Third, a humorous scene, taken from Dickens' '^Pickwick 
Papers :" 

* Byron's Corsair, Canto II. Verse XH. 



190 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Mr. Pickw^ick and Mrs. Bardell Discov- 
ered by their Friends. 

The scene selected is the one where the widow Bardell, sup- 
posing she has had an offer of marriage, is embracing Mr. Pick- 
wick, who stands a picture of dismay and surprise, while he 
holds up her fainting form. Just entering the door, are the 
little Bardell, Messrs. Tupman, Winkle and Snodgrass. Each 
of the figures must be made up and costumed, as described in 
the Pickwick papers. 

Fourth, a scene for children : 

Open your Month and Shnt yonr Eyes. 

Scene, a front kitchen. A little boy, in a picturesque coun- 
try dress, sits with closed eyes and open mouth, while a little 
girl, holding a bunch of cherries near her own lips, puts the end 
of a tallow candle near her companion's yawning jaws. The 
children should w^ear bright dresses. 

Fifth, a patriotic scene : 

Liberty Freeing the Slave. 

This requires no scenery. Centre of stage, a raised platform 
covered with white, upon which stands the Goddess of Liberty, 
dressed in white, with a wide sash of the national colors falhng 
in folds on the left side ; the hair is loose, and surmounted by a 
liberty cap. In one hand she grasps an American flag, while 
the other is extended to raise a kneeling figure, a negro woman 
in a ragged dress. Beside the negro lies a chain. The figures 
must be well contrasted ; one radiant and bright, the other dark, 
ragged and wretched. Drop a curtain of rose-colored gauze. 

Sixth, scene from the Vicar of Wakefield : 



THE FOURTEENTH EVENING. 191 

Sophia and OliYia Visiting the Fortune- 
Teller. 

The scene is a sitting-room. Centre of stage, a chair, upon 
which is seated an old hag, profile to audience. Facing her, 
one of the girls is offering her hand for inspection, while the 
other stands a little back between them, facing audience, and 
watching the gipsy's face. The dresses should be those of the 
last century. 

Seventh, a Scripture scene : 
• 

The Sacrifice of Abraham. 

No scenery, excepting a table covered entirely with a dark 
cloth, to imitate the altar. Upon this is heaped some wood, 
some is also piled against the table. Isaac, a fair-haired boy, 
in a loose white robe, is bound to the wood^ while Abraham, in 
flowing robes, with long white beard and hair, stands behind 
the altar, facing audience, with a knife raised to strike. He 
looks up, as if just hearing the voice of the angel calling him to 
stay his hand. 

Eighth, and ninth, two humorous scenes, following each other 
as rapidly as possible. 

The Inconveniences of Single Life. 

Scene, an attic. Seated upon a low stool, centre of stage, 
facing audience, a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, and one bare 
foot, trying to darn a great hole in a stocking. 

Second scene, the same attic, with the addition of a few arti- 
cles of furniture, including a lounge. 

The Conveniences of Married Life. 

The same gentleman, neatly stockinged and slippered, lies 
upon the lounge, reading a newspaper, while his wife, in a cal- 



192 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

ico dress and sunbonnet, is splitting a large log of wood with a 
heavy ax. 

Tenth, a brilliant scene for a final one. 

The Flower Queen. 

A raised platform and chair, in the centre of the stage, is 
covered with white and festooned with flowers. Upon this is 
seated a beautiful girl, dressed in white, and crowned with 
roses, to represent the queen of flowers. Her sceptre is a branch 
of roses, and roses loop and trim her dress. 

Kneeling upon each side of this central figure are children, 
dressed in white, each wreathed with a different flower, but 
none with roses. 

They are in graceful attitudes, and offer baskets, boquets, 
garlands and wreaths, to the Queen. 

Drop a rose-colored gauze curtain, and burn red light. 

The curtain should never remain up for a tableau more than 
thirty seconds, as it is almost impossible to keep perfectly 
motionless for a longer time. Drop it then for two minutes, to 
allow rest ; then raise it as before, a second and third time. 



THE FIFTEENTH EVENING. 193 



"plfTEENTH ^VEJvIIJHQ. 

Having given a great deal of thought, taste and ingenuity to 
the tableaux of the last evening, our circle of friends are prob- 
ably ready for some round games and tricks that will not re- 
quire so much preparation, and can open this evening by a 
game of 

Mind Tour P's and Q's. 

The rule of the game is not to mention the name of any pl^ce 
beginning with a letter that precedes P and Q in the alphabet, 
and the historical name must be the native place of the person 
mentioned, or the scene of a battle in which he was engaged. < 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader. Napoleon Bonaparte has gone to fight at . 

Mind your P's and Q's. 

Ans. Waterloo ! George Washington has gone to . 

Mind your P's and Q's. 

Secoist) Plater. Germantown ! 

First Plater. A forfeit ! G comes before P and Q. 

Third Plater. Yalley Forge ! Charlemange has gone to 
fight at . Mind your P's and Q's. 

Fourth Plater. Roncesvalles ! The Emperor of Russia 
has gone to fight at . Mind your P's and Q's. 

Fifth Plater. Sebastopol ! General Taylor has gone to 
fight at . Mind your P's and Q's. 

Sixth Plater. Buena Vista ! 

Seventh Plater. A forfeit ! Vera Cruz ! General Grant 
has gone to fight at . Mind your P's and Q's. 

Eighth Plater. Vicksburg! Frederick the Great has 
gone to fight at . Mind your P's and Q's. 

NzNTH Plater. Rossbach! 



lU WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

This game is an excellent test of the historical reading and 
accuracy of the performers, and is very instructive to children 
studying history, who will often remember names and events 
thus impressed upon them, where the usual routine of study is 
wearisome. 

While the majority of the company are thus minding their 
P's and Q's, let one or two slip away to the dressing-room to 
prepare 

' The "Wonderful Giantess. 

. This is a most amusing deception, and very easily arranged. 
The performer should be a tall, thin young man. Tie around 




Fig. 

his throat a skirt that is long enougli to touch the ground all 
around. Cover an umbrella with a Jong shawl or waterproof 



THE FIFTEENTH EVENING. 195 

cloak, and tie a large ball to the point or ferrule. Upon this 
fasten a bonnet, or the hood of the cloak, and a thick veil. 
The umbrella is partly opened, to hold out the cloak as crinoline 
would do. The tall young man getting under it, in his long 
skirt, and holding it as high as he can grasp the handle, ap- 
pears like a gigantic woman. 

Somebody knocks at the door to announce an arrival ; and a 
moment after a servant announces '' Miss Shortcake." 

The giantess then stalks into the room (see Fig. 68), to the 
amazement of the company, bowing. It has a very funny ef- 
fect to enter holding the umbrella low down and raise it very 
slowly, giving a comical appearance of growth. She may talk 
to the company in a squeaky, feigned voice. 

In good hands a giantess can be made exceedingly funny. 

"While the giantess is stalking about amongst the company 
some of the company may close the folding-doors, and drawing 
a table before a curtained window, arrange a contrast in 

The Dwarf. 

Put a young lady's hands into a child's stockings and little 
boots or shoes. To disguise her face, put a small piece of court- 
plaster over one of her front teeth, darken the eyebrows with a 
little water-color, and arrange the hair in some unaccustomed 
fashion. Add a little rouge and powder to the disguise. Then 
put on a bonnet and shawl. As two performers are required, 
another young lady, carefully concealed by the window -curtains, 
stands behind the first, and passing her arms around her sup- 
plies the dwarfs arms and hands. A table is drawn up, and 
the booted hands rest upon it ; and a perfect dwarf appears to 
stand upon the table (see Fig. 69). She may introduce herself 
as Mrs. Melchisidek Stady Canton, and speak in favor of ex- 
tending ^^ Woman's Rights" to all women less than four feet high, 
etc. In conclusion, she may dance a very genteel break-down 
in a most lady-like manner. 



196 



WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



The dwarf may tell fortunes or ^' speak a piece/' with funny 
gestures. 




Fig. 69. 

An amusing hour may now be passed, in a game of 

The Ugly Miig. 

A leader is chosen, and the remainder of the company must 
follow every motion that he makes, while he sings the descrip- 
ton. 



t Hr-^r-r ^^ F^=^-m 



I put my right hand in, I put iny right hand out, I 



$ 






r^- 



^ 



give my right hand a chake, chalie, shake, I turn my - self a - hout. 

The leader should stand facing the others, and his gestures 
are exactly as he describes them. ^ 



THE FIFTEENTH EVENING. 197 

Leadee. {Singing and making the appropriate gestures, 
which all imitate.) 

I put my right hand in ! {extending the right hand before Mm.) 

I put my right hand out ! {turning half round, and again extending the right 

hand.) 
I give my right hand a shake, shake, shake ! {shaking the right hand.) 
I turn myself about ! {turns hack to first position.) 

The same gestures are performed with the left hand while 
singing. 

I put my left hand in ! 

I put my left hand out ! 

I give my left hand a shake, shake, shake ! 

I turn myself about ! 

The same performance is gone through with both hands, while 
singing : 

I put my both hands in, etc. 

At the conclusion of which, the leader continues the gestures 
with his riglft foot, singing : 

I put my right foot in ! 

I put my right foot out ! 

I give my right foot a shake, shake, shake ! 

I turn myself about ! 

The same thing is done with the left foot, with the words : 

I put my left foot in, etc. 

The head is the next member brought into active service. 

I put my ugly mug in ! {stretching the head and neck forward.) 
I put my ugly mug out ! {turning half round and repeating the same motion,) 
I give my ugly mug a shake, shake, shake ! {nodding the head vigorously.) 
I turn myself about ! 

If the gravity of the company will stand this test, knowing 
every smile must cost a forfeit, choose a new leader, and try 
again to collect some forfeits. This will, however, be scarcely 
called for, as the first time round will surely provide a pretty 
large crop of forfeits. 



198 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

The conjurer may now amuse the party by exhibiting a spec- 
imen of 

Invisible Suspension. 

Take a quill or other small tube, closed at one end ; near the 
closed end cut a small but perfectly round hole on the side of 
the quill, similar in position to the embouchure or mouth-hole 
of a flute. Next, select a nice soft piece of cork, and cut it into 
the iorm of a ball, say three-quarters of an inch in diameter. 
Now, place the open end of the quill in the mouth, with the 
small hole upward ; blow gently through it, and hold the ball 
over the hole -, on withdrawing the hand the cork ball will float 
in the air as long as the supply of wind is kept up. 

Colored hollow glass balls may be introduced into the jet of a 
fountain, with the same pleasing effect ; the more powerful the 
jet, the higher will the ball be suspended. 
' This may be followed by the trick of 

The Obedient Egg. 

Select an egg which has a good smooth shell ; pierce a hole 
at each end, and blow the contents out. Next make a small 
hole on the side with a needle, and secure in it, with a wooden 




Fig. 70. 



peg, one end of a piece of very fine black sewing-silk about 
fifteen inches long ; make a loop at the other end of the silk, 



THE FIFTEENTH EVENING. IW 

a|id pass it over one of the buttons of your vest (see Fig. 70), 
which should be black or dark-colored. Hold the egg in your 
left hand until you begin the performance. 

Commence by borrowing two Uack hats. If there is a piano 
in the room, ask some one to play a lively tune, as '' eggs are 
fond of hvely music to dance to." Then, with the brim of a hat 
in each hand, interpose the round of each hat successively un- 
der the thread that holds the ^gg, moving them from your 
breast toward the Qgg. The Qgg will appear to move of itself 
over the hats, as you place them under it. 

You must not allow people to handle the ^gg on the thread 
afterwards, for when they see the simplicity of the process they 
will undervalue the trick, whereas it appears marvelous as long 
as they do not understand how the movements are produced. 

A fine, black horse-hair is better than sewing-silk, as it is less 
liable to twist or become knotted during the performance ; but 
the best of all is a single long black hair, obtained (with full 
consent, of course) from some obliging lady who is gifted with 
this beautiful but rare ornament. 



200 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



While the arrivals are yet few, a pleasant hour may be 
"whiled away hy a few simple experiments, as 

The IininoYable Card. 

An ordinary visiting-card is bent at the ends, as shown in Fig. 
71, and placed upon a table. The company are then invited to 
blow it over. Easy as this may seem, it is usually tried for a 



riG. 71. 




long time in vain. It can be accomplished, however, by blow- 
ing sharply upon the table itself, at some distance in front of 
the card, stirring the air under it, which upsets it. 
Another curious experiment is 

The Double Pea Illusion. 

If a small pea be placed on a table, or in the palm of the left 
hand, and pressed or rolled between the ends of the first and 
second fingers of the right hand, a single pea only will be felt j 
but if the fingers be crossed, and the pea again felt as before, 
without looking at it, there will seem to be two peas. 



THE SIXTEENTH EVENING. 201 

The illustration shows the position the fingers are required 
to assume in order to experience this remarkable illusion 




Tig. 72. 
Supposing a sufficient number of players to be now assembled, 
start 

The Story of the Trades. 

The leader must be duly elected as the '' President of the 
Board of Trade/' and must have a sheet of paper. She takes 
her seat facing the circle of players, who then select trades, 
each having a different one. When all have chosen a trade, 
the leader, selecting any book she may prefer, copies an ex- 
tract from it ; whenever she comes to a noun, excepting any 
five she may wish to retain, she points her pencil at one of the 
company, who must give a noun from the trade he or she has 
selected. If preferred, the story may be original. 

EXAMPLE : 

Ten players take the following trades : Butcher, Milliner, 
Grocer, Florist, Plumber, Baker, Dressmaker, Hardware Deal- 
er, Dry-goods Merchant, Carpenter. 

The leader then commences her extract. As she points her 
pencil the Butcher gives her a Leg of Mutton ; the Baker, a Seed- 



202 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

cake; the Milliner, a Straw-flat ; the Grocer, aPoundofBaisins ; 
the Florist, a Johnny-jump-up ; the Plumber, a Lead-pipe; 
the Dressmaker, a Dolly Varden ; the Hardware Dealer, a 
Gridiron ; the Dry-goods Merchant, Socks ; and the Carpen- 
ter, a Window-sash. 

The extract is from Shakspeare's " Juhus Caesar," and the 
nouns given being substituted for those of the great dramatist, 
it reads thus : 

"If you have Legs of Mutton prepare to shed them now. 
Tou all do know this Seed-cake : I remember 
The first time ever Csesar put it on ; 
'Twas on a summer's Straw-Jlat in his Pound of Raisins 
That day he overcame the Johnny-jump-up. 
Look ! in this place ran Cassius' Lead Pipe through. 
See, what a Dolly Varden the envious Casca made ; 
Through this the well-beloved Gridiron stabbed, 
And as he plucked his curried Socks away, 
Mark how the Windotv-sash of Caesar followed it." 

The extracts should always be of the most heroic, tragic, or 
sentimental character. We have heard the ^'Charge of the 
Light Brigade," under the auspices of a Grocer, Apothecary, 
Confectioner, Cabinet Maker, Milliner, Butcher, Tin-man 
Crockery-man, Notion Dealer, and Wine Merchant, rendered 
thus: 

Half a pound of candles, 
Half a dose of salts, 
Half a mint stick onward. 
All in the easy-chair of Death 
Hode the sis. pink bonnets. 
"Forward the Light Beefsteak]! 
Charge for the saucepan,'^ he said. 
Into the tea-cup of Death 
Eode the six shawl-pins. 
" Forward the Light Champagne—" 

and so on, nearly the whole poem having been written with 
these absurd interpolations. 

While the circle have been laughing over Shakspeare, Ten- 
nyson & Co., served up with this new sauce, one of the gentle- 
men, entering the room suddenly, in breathless haste, exclaims : 



TRE SIXTEENTH EVENING, 



203 



" Have you heard of the dreadful railway accident ? There la 
a poor fellow here who has been a horrible sufferer. His head 
is twisted ! It was a terrible affair ! He was thrown from the 
top of the baggage-car, where he had gone to take a quiet 
smoke and survey the surrounding scenery. A lurch of the 
train threw him down an embankment one hundred feet, and 
he revolved in the air so rapidly that he reached the bottom 
with his head fairly turned. Every effort has been made by the 
most eminent surgeons in the country to relieve him, but in 
vam. He will carry for life 

A Twisted Head." 



After this prologue, the victim, as seen in the illustration, 
Fig. 73, walks into the room. 




Fig. 73. 



204 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT? 

This trick has a very funny effect if the double-faced party 
joins in dancing a quadrille. His fortunate (?) partner will be 
thoroughly bewildered by his '^advance and retire," and other 
similar movements. 

The ^' make-up " of this unfortunate individual is very sim- 
ple. He requires a false face, and a wig that allows him the use 
of his eyes through its meshes. These are. put on, the wig over 
his face, the face over his own hair, and surmounted by a hat. 
A vest and loose coat are then put on hind-side-before, and the 
gentleman is ready. He should walk about the room back- 
ward, forward, and sidewise, occasionally turning his head to 
one side or the other, but he must not speak, or his voice will 
come, apparently, from the back of his head. 

When this unfortunate has retired, seat your company in a 
circle for a game of 

Famous I^umbers. 

Give to each one of the company a small piece of paper, and 
pass round a lead-pencil to each in turn. Each one must write 
a number upon the piece of paper and fold it into a small 
square. The leader now collects the papers into a hat or a 
plate and shakes them all well together. They are then passed 
round the circle again, and the players open them in regular 
rotation, each one giving some reason why the number held is 
famous, or else paying a forfeit. 

EXAMPLE : 

After all the papers have a number written on them and are 
passed round, the first player reads : ^^ Number Three. There 
were Three Graces." 

SECo:ivrD Plater. Number Ten. The Council of Ten. 
Third Player. Number Five. There are Five Senses, 
Fourth Plater. Number Four. The Fourth of July, 
Fifth Plater. Number Nine. There were Nine Muses, 
Sixth Plater. Number Seventeen. The Battle of Bun- 
ker Hill was fought on the seventeenth of June. 



THE SIXTEENTH EVENING. 



205 



Seventh Playee. Number Seven. There are seven days 
in a week. 

Eighth Platee. Number Twenty-five. Christmas is on 
the twenty-fifth of December. 

Ninth Platee. Number One Hundred. Napoleon's hun- 
dred days. 

This game requires some thouglit, but will be found very 
interesting in a circle of well-informed players, as there is 
scarcely a number that will not recall some association, and, 
if not, there are forfeits to keep up the interest. 



IIo^v\^ to Gro^\^ Tall Suddenly. 

When the company are weary of this game, ask some of the 
gentlemen if they wish to be instructed in the art of looking 




ElG. 74. 

tall. It is a funny optical illusion that must be tried to bo 
really realized or understood, yet it is very simple. It merely 



206 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

consists in raising the shoulders, and it is astonishing to see 
how the simple movement will add to the appearance of height. 
The illustration explains the simple modus operandi. 

When this hocus-pocus is over inquire if the company have 
ever played the 

Egyj)tiaii Eye Grame. 

which seems so simple, and yet is so very puzzling. 

A screen must be put across one end of the room, with holes 
cut in it about the height and size of a human eye, allowing a 
little variation in the height to include the tall, short, and me- 
dium-sized. A clothes-horse covered with newspapers makes 
a good screen for the purpose. 

Introduce the game by inquiring of those present if they 
think they could recognize the eyes of their companions under 
any and all circumstances. You will find that most people are 
quite confident that they can do so. Invite half the company 
to step behind the screen, and place one eye at the opening cut 
for that purpose. Then allow each of the remaining portion of 
the company to examine the siugle eye and name its proprietor. 
It will be found almost impossible to recognize, with any de- 
gree of certainty, the eye of even the dearest friend or nearest 
relative. Noses and mouths visible by themselves through sim- 
ilar appropriate openings are almost as difficult to identify. 

When the interest in the features of the company begins to 
flag, invite your conjuring friend to show the party a few tricks 
of legerdemain, such as are now described. 

One of the Black Arts. 

stick a pin in the centre of the crown of a silk hat, allowing 
the head to project about half an inch, and desire some person 
to extract the pin with the teeth only. This is a good trick to 
introduce as a forfeit in some game, as the person selected to 
perform it will naturally think that he has been let off very 



THE SIXTEENTH EVENIXG. 207 

easily ; but the fun consists in carefully blacking the crown of 
the hat with burnt cork. The performer will in all probability 
extract the pin and hand back the hat, remarking that he 
cannot see the point of the joke, this being reserved for the rest 
of the audience. 

The Blowers Baffled. 

Put a tumbler in the centre of the table. Take a small piece 
of paper, measuring, say, about an inch or an inch and a half 
each way ; mold it into a hollow form over the top of the 
thumb, and place it upon the table, hollow downward. Now 
explain to the company that it is impossible to blow the paper 
off the table, because the glass has the effect of dividing or so 
disturbing the current of air on the surface of the table as to 
defy their utmost endeavors to blow it off. 

To succeed in this, a single long hair from a lady's head must 
have been previously secured to the bottom of the glass, by 
means of a minute particle of shoemaker's wax; another parti- 
cle of wax is placed in the centre of the piece of paper, by which 
the other end of the hair is fastened to it while molding it 
over the thumb. In order to avoid all possibility of detection, 
the table-cover and the hair should be dark-colored, and print- 
ed paper used, such as a bit of newspaper ; this prevents the 
wax from showing, which might be the case if the paper were 
clean and white. The hair should be long enough to allow the 
paper to reach about eighteen inches or two feet from the glass. 



208 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



3jev:ente^nth ^veninq. 

It is proposed to devote this evening to only one subject, as 
it requires a little more preparation than some of the other 
amusements. The subject selected is that of 

Sliado^w^-P ant omiin e s . 

These pleasing shadow-illusions, that have of late years been 
brought into public notice, and afforded so much wonder and 
amusement, are by no means a new invention. They are only 
a revival of old ideas with modern improvements. Thirty 
years ago the little folks in London were amused with a shadow- 
representation then known under the name of the ^^ Italian 
Fantoccini." This was an evening street-performance got up 
in the same manner as " Punch and Judy ; " the shelf, or stage, 
on which Punch was wont to delight his audience, being re- 
placed by a tightly-stretched white curtain, upon which the 
shadows of small puppets were thrown by means of a light 
placed behind them ; the effects produced being similar to the 
^'Gallanty-Show" of the present time. In this we find the first 
principles, in miniature, of the shadow-pantomime. 

The same method is employed to produce the German Schat- 
ten-Bilder or shadow-pictures, only that in these the curtain is 
large enough to admit of life-sized shadows. The arrangement 
is the same as in the Fantoccini, enlarged in its dimensions ; 
the light in both cases being placed at some distance from the 
curtain and in a central position, so as to subject the shadows 
to as little distortion as possible. The modern improvements 
mainly consist in locating the light much nearer the curtain, 
and close to the floor. This enables a performer, stepping over 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 200 

the light toward the curtain, to appear as coming down from 
the ceiling; or, by passing back from the curtain, over the 
light, to appear mounting upward and disappearing in the air ; 
and this was the secret of the ^' Harlequin in the Shades," 
^' Shadows in the Moon," and other names under which the new 
illusion became known. In the pubUc representations lately 
given on the shadow-curtain this illusion was the main point 
depended upon, and but little was attempted beyond a short 
incidental act at the close of a minstrel or other variety-per- 
formance ; but we propose, in this place, to show how shadow- 
pantomimes may be made to afford amusement, and that of the 
most mirth-provoking kind, for an hour or more at a time. 

The first thing to provide is a curtain of white muslin, not too 
thick, but of substance enough to allow no rays of light to pass 
between the threads. The seams must be made with a very 
narrow margin, with close and tightly-drawn stitches, and the 
number of the seams reduced as much as possible by using the 
widest muslin that can be obtained. The size of the curtain 
will depend on the place of exhibition ; in a parlor, the space 
between the folding or sliding-doors affords a good place for it. 
A surface of six or eight feet wide, and eight or ten high, forms 
a curtain which will answer for small i^erformers ; but for full- 
grown persons it should be larger ; and, where available, an 
area of twelve feet square will not be any too large. 

The size of the curtain having been fixed upon, and the seams 
sewn, provide a frame a little larger each way than the opening 
to be covered. Secure the curtain to the frame with tacks, 
stretching it sufficiently to take out all folds and creases, and 
fasten the frame firmly against the casing of the door ; this ar- 
rangement makes a neater appearance than making the frame 
to fit inside the door-casing. Just before the commencement of 
the performance the curtain may be wet evenly with a sponge 
and clean water ; this renders the shadows much sharper and 
more distinct, and cannot well be dispensed with if the material 
of the curtain be thick. 



210 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f " 

The selection and management of the light are matters of the 
highest importance. Whatever kind of light be used, it is nec- 
essary to have a bright and steady flame ; a large, dull, or flick- 
ering light being utterly useless. Where gas is burned in the 
room a flat-flame burner may be fitted to astand placed on the 
floor, and arranged so that the gas-flame is not more than two 
or three inches from the ground ; in fact; the lower the better. 
The stand can be connected with the nearest gas-fixture in the 
room by means of a flexible tube. In parlors where there is no 
gas the best substitute is a low, flat, tin kerosene-lamp, similar 
to those used in the street-cars ; a glass lamp would involve too 
much risk of breakage and consequent danger of fire. 

The position of the light is the next point which claims our 
attention. About six feet behind the centre of the curtain 
place a stool or box, whose height is sufficient to clear the top 
of the lamp. This is intended to protect the lamp and affords 
a convenient footing for stepping over the light ; it should, 
therefore, stand firmly, or else be secured to the floor. Just in 
front of this step the lamp is to be placed ; and, for convenient 
reference hereafter, we will call this the " first position." The 
edge of the flame should be presented toward the curtain, as a 
flat flame, especially if it be a wide one, will make the outline 
of the shadows on the curtain less distinctly defined. 

Three or four feet behind the footstool, and in a line with the 
centre of the curtain, place another box about two and a half 
feet high, to serve as a stand for the light when needed. This 
will constitute the ^' second position " of the light, and will be 
used when an act is being performed in which there is no need 
for stepping over the light. In such cases the light in the 
second position throws shadows more natural, and less dis- 
torted in their proportions, than when used in the first position. 

The lamp must be managed by a person who gives his undi- 
vided attention to the performance ; he should understand thor- 
oughly what is going to be played, and thus be able to give all 
the necessary stage-directions to the players, who should follow 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 211 

his orders implicitly. No performance can be successful with- 
out a competent stage -manager, and, least of all, a shadow-pan- 
tomime. In transferring the lamp from one position to the 
other, it must be done very gradMallyj or the effect on the shad- 
ows caused by its change of place will be too apparent, and 
this must never be attempted without previous practice ; in fact, 
no part of a performance can be made entirely successful in its 
effects without very careful and frequent rehearsal. Colored 
light may be thrown on the curtain by holding a strip of colored 
glass close before the light. Glass of a light color only must 
be used, and perfectly clean ; dark colors deaden the light too 
much. During a performance the shadow-light must be the 
only one allowed to be burning ; all others, both behind the 
curtain and among the audience, must be entirely extinguished. 

Where it is not convenient to arrange a drop-curtain, the 
light must be masked before the performance commences and 
at its close. A small box, or even a large book, placed close in 
front of the light, will answer, provided it be large enough to 
shade the entire curtain. 

The means employed, and the effects produced, in a shadow- 
pantomime, are so entirely different from those of a stage-per- 
formance, that a few general directions are indispensable : 

First, as to the position of the body. The side of the head 
must always be presented to the curtain, as the profile is the 
only shadow that is effective ; even when the rest of a perform- 
er's body is fronting the curtain, the head should be turned to 
one side or the other, so as to show its profile. He must never 
attempt to look at his shadow ; this throws the face at once out 
of profile ; during rehearsal only is this allowed. 

When a performer is standing side to the curtain, especially 
with the hght in the first position, he must be very careful how 
he manages the shoulder furthest from the curtain ; unless he 
keeps both his shoulders exactly in a line with the light his 
shadow will be an astonishing one. A single trial will show how 
easy it is for a person to appear with a projection on his breast, 



212 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NiaHTf 

or a hump on his back, as the .case may be j and this is not al- 
ways desirable. Every thing should be done as near to the 
curtain as practicable without touching it ; always bearing in 
mind that, at a distance of two feet from the curtain, the shad- 
ow of a person five feet high will be all of seven feet six inches, 
and would be rather more prominent than pleasing. When 
both arms are brought forward into shadow they must be held 
near together, and in such position relatively that the shadow 
of the one is not eclipsed by that of the other. If the arms are 
held wide apart the shadow of the one nearest the light will be 
greatly the larger. The same may be said of any articles or 
objects held in the hands ; in order to bring them" into shadow 
the hand must always be above or 1)61010 the object held. 

Next, as to action. All movements must be well tested by 
rehearsal, as their effects on the shadow-curtain are often 
widely different from what we might be led to expect. If a 
performer wish, for instance, to scratch his head, it must be 
done with the arm well curved to the front ; in any other posi- 
tion the whole of the arm and most of the hand will be obscured 
by the shadow of the body and head. All motions must be 
made parallel with the curtain, or their effect is indistinct or 
entirely lost. Turning round must be done quickly and neatly, 
with an exact and complete reverse of profile. In passing one 
another (a thing which should be seldom done) performers 
should accomplish the movement close together, and rapidly, so 
as to prevent their shadows from getting mixed. When step- 
ping over the light, either toward or from the curtain, it must 
be done sideways, presenting the profile to the light, and with 
a long stride, so as to step down close to the curtain, if going 
on, or clear over the lamp, if going off. Any halting midway 
between the curtain and the light will leave only the lower half 
of the body in shadow, and of colossal proportions ; entrance or 
exit over the light should not be too often repeated, but con- 
fined to a performer's first appearance or final exit, or some 
other occasion when it may be done with good effect. 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING, 213 

There are very few persons, comparatively speaking, who 
are gifted with a talent for pantomime. Performers on the 
stage having considerable command over their features, and a 
fair routine knowledge of mimic action, often fail to express 
their meaning accurately. How much more difficult must it be, 
then, to convey an idea by a shadow only ; in fact, to make your 
shadow speak. In a shadow the expression of the eye is lost ; 
the working or play of the features is imperceptible ; the only 
really movable portion of the face is the lower jaw, affording the 
means of opening or closing the mouth. If ever you should 
meet with a lucky individual who can really (not metaphorically) 
turn up his nose, engage him for your shadow-pantomime on the 
spot, as one possessing a talent not to be despised. 

As the facilities for emotional expression are so hmited, it 
follows that a shadow-pantomime must depend entirely for suc- 
cess on a rapid succession of thrilling and ludicrous situations, 
all so exaggerated as to be unmistakable in their meaning. 

Whenever any short dialogue or interchange of ideas occurs, 
between two performers, there is no other way to make it plain 
to the audience than to put your few remarks into words, re- 
peat them silently in your own mind, and accompany them with 
thoroughly appropriate but greatly exaggerated action. This 
is really the secret of all successful pantomimists. Two parties, 
when in apparent conversation, should be careful to speak one 
at a time, as it were ; that is, not to act both at once, but each 
wait for the other to finish what he is about, and then reply to 
it. Hence, the part each performer has to assume must be as 
thoroughly studied beforehand as though it were a stage-comedy; 
and the manager be always ready to prompt (in a low whisper) 
when the actor is at fault ; this, of course, requires perfect order 
and quiet behind the curtain. Nothing should be done in -a 
hurry, but, on the contrary, with the greatest deliberation ; un- 
less every action is distinctly and completely performed the 
whole thing degenerates into a confused jumble, utterly unin- 
telligible to the audience. 



214 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

All ^'Properties," or articles to be used in a performance, 
should be laid down on the floor or on a table, in exactly the 
order in which they will be required, within easy reach of the 
manager, and under his sole control. No person whatever 
should be allowed behind the curtain but those who are actually 
performing ; and the performers, when not acting, must be pro- 
vided with seats entirely out of the way of those who are act- 
ing, and remain seated, except when called by the manager. 

The scenery used is of the simplest description, being cut out 
of stout paper and pinned, or otherwise fastened, to the cur- 
tain. Common wooden chairs will cast as good a shadow as if 
made of the finest rosewood, and will not be injured by rough 
handhng. In cases where a table is needed for performance, it 
should consist of a strip of board, of length limited to a proper 
proportion to the size of the curtain, and not more than, say, 
nine inches wide : nail it upon four strips of wood to serve as 
legs, and, when in stage-use, place it close to, not touching, the 
curtain. Small articles must be put down on the edge of the 
table nearest the light, or they will not come fully into shadow. 

Whenever any article of furniture is needed casually, in a per- 
formance, it should be handed over the hght by the manager, 
liigh up, and as near the curtain as he can reach without bring- 
ing it prematurely into shadow, holding it steady for one of the 
performers to grasp it by the leg and lift it down to the floor 
close to the curtain. 

As seen by the audience, the hand of the performer passes up 
out of sight, and fetches the chair, or table, as the case may be, 
down from the ceiling. The article may be passed off in the 
same manner by reversing the proceeding. All small objects, 
such as fishes, birds, mallets, kettles, etc., are cut out of paste- 
board, and always held parallel with the curtain. To make a 
false nose, cut a piece of pasteboard to the required shape, and 
split open the back-edge sufficiently to allow the real nose to 
be inserted ; it can be fixed securely, either by strings attached 
to each side and tied behind the head, or by gumming on with 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 21c 

adhesive plaster. The latter plan is the best, as it admits of 
the nose being apparently pulled ofl"; and a handful of sawdust 
will make a good substitute for the consequent flow of blood. 
Costumes can be made of any old stuff, and trimmed, when 
needed, with paper. 

Stage-Dieections. The terms ''right," ^' left,'' etc., are 
used in their theatrical sense, as explained on page 290. 

In the following acts the stage-action is given in as few words 
as possible, the stage-directions being in italics, between 
parentheses. 

The Feejee Islanders at Home. 

CHARACTERS. 

Kameha — King of the Cannibal Islands. 
OcHEE — Kameha's son, a prince of the blood royal, and Commis- 
sary-general of the tribe. 
An Infai^t Feejee — ^A two-year-old native. 
Sleek — A missionary, short, fat and sleek. 

COSTUMES. 

Kameha— In tights, with short skirt reaching just above the 
knee. Woolly head, and three feathers stuck upright on 
back of head. Projecting nose, with ring hanging from it. 
Woolly beard on chin. 

Ochee — Also in tights and short skirt ; nose and ring having 
a strong family likeness. No feathers on his head. 

Sleek— Tight-fitting tail-coat and pantaloons. Silk hat. 
Exaggerated clerical lappels to his shirt-collar. Closely- 
fitting scalp covering his hair, and a decent wig over the 
scalp. 

Ax Infant Feejee — In tights altogether, and tight-fitting 
scalp. , 

The costumes will require but little trouble to prepare. The 
tights may consist of ordinary merino elastic under-shirts and 



216 WRAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

drawers, and stockiDgs. A horse-hair wig, such as is used by 
negro-minstrels, if at hand, is the very thing, but it may be 
made of cotton- wool sewed into a tight-fitting mushn skull-cap, 
or even on the elastic cotton caps used by skaters and bathers. 
If possible, however, a trick- wig should be obtained for Kame- 
ha, which allows of the hair on the top of the head being pulled 
upright by means of a string ; this is very effective. The sav- 
age's feathers and Sleek's collars are made of stout paper. 

A rag-figure resembling Sleek should be prepared; the head, 
arms and legs being sewn on in such a manner that they will hold 
together, but allow of being easily separated. 

Propekties : — Umbrella ; Book ; Bow and Arrow (of rattan) ; 
Tomahawk ; Butcher-knife ; Fan ; Egg ; Chicken j another 
Chicken, with an arrow stuck through it. 

SCENE. 

On right side, the entrance to a hut. On left side, a large 
pot hanging between poles. 

The hut is made of stout paper, and should not take up an 
inch more of the width of the curtain than is necessary to show 
the entrance; this latter is cut out of the paper and covered 
with thin tissue-paper, which must be oiled if not sufficiently 
translucent. The entrance should appear only a little darker 
than the light part of the curtain. The height of the hut may 
be five feet, and the entrance four feet. 

The pot or kettle is also made of thick paper, with a wire 
handle, and suspended by a stout cord from the two sticks 
which serve for poles. These are fastened at top, and secured 
against the frame of the curtain in such a position that the ket- 
tle hangs on the stove with its side against the frame. The 
kettle is about two feet high and eighteen inches wide, and 
rests on a square fire-place made of paper, a square portion in 
the front being cut out to represent bars. These bars are cov- 
ered with red tissue-paper to imitate the glow of the fire with- 
m. The illustration, Fig. 75, represents the cui'tain stretched 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 



217 



on the frame, and the paper-scenery in position, the strips of 
wood fastened to the frame at A and B, and the fire-bars, C, to 




Fig. 75. 

be covered with red tissue-paper. Right over the kettle nail a 
strip of wood, D, on to the frame, and insert a small eyelet near 
the upper end of it. Arrange a similar eyelet, E, over the centre 
of the curtain. Pass a piece of fine sewing-thread through each ; 
at one end of each thread fasten a hooked pin, and secure the 
other ends on separate nails on the side of the frame. On the 
string 1j, hook a chicken, and on the string E, the other chick- 
en, with the arrow in it ; haul the latter up out of sight over the 
curtain, and let the former hang down in the shadow of the 
kettle. In front of the fire lay a few sticks on the ground. 
Commence with the light in the "first position." (See p. 210.) 



218 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT? 

{Enter KamehA; with bow and arrow and tomahawk, over 

light.) 

Kameha looks right and left, dips finger in pot, tastes it, 
shakes his head ; goes into hut, comes out again, stands at en- 
trance ; points at kettle, then at his open mouth ; shakes his 
head ; claps his hands. 

{Enter Ochee, over light.) 

Threatens Ochee, points at kettle, squats down near hut, and 
goes to sleep. 

Ochee puts his fingers to his nose, cuts a caper, and pick- 
ing up sticks throws them into the fire. Euns into hut, returns 
with fan, blows fire. Kettle boils. {A mouthful of cigar- 
smoke puffed from the side as if issuing from the kettle produces 
the appearance of steam.) Cuts another caper and produces an 
egg, which he drops into the kettle, and then squats down in 
front of his father and nods, as if asleep. 

Kameha wakes up, sees Ochee asleep, and hits him on the 
head with his bow to wake him. 

Ochee wakes up with a start, rubs his eyes and turns round 
to Kameha, who points to kettle. He then goes to kettle to get 
the egg, looks into kettle, starts back in amazement. Beck- 
ons his father, who looks over his shoulder in the pot. {The 
chicken on B is now hauled up by jerks). At each movement of 
the chicken both start with surprise. The chicken disappears 
over the curtain ; both point to the place. {A strip of cardboard 
with BAD EGG cut out in it may be held for a moment from the 
side of the curtain over the kettle. The chicken should now be 
dratvn down again by means of a stick with a hook at the endj 
the ivhole operation being done so as to produce no shadoiv on the 
curtain.) 

Kameha points to the words Bad Egg, and hits Ochee on 
the head. 

Ochee falls down with legs up, jumps up, runs into hut and 
brings out another egg. 

Kameha snatches the egg, smells it, shakes it, nods his head 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING 219 

ill approval, drops it in kettle and turns round to OcHee, shak- 
ing his fist. {The chicken is now hauled up near the top of the 
curtain, unobserved hy the players.) He turns again and looks 
into kettle. {The chicken is let down, so as to appear as if stand- 
ing on Kameha's head.) 

OcHEE claps his hands and points at chicken. 

Kameha looks up, sees the chicken {ivhich is quickly drawn 
up out of sight), runs into hut for bow and arrow, appears again 
at entrance and shoots up {so that the arrow will fall heyond the 
curtain. The chicken at E is now let down, fluttering, as if 
wounded). 

Both fall down afraid. 

OcHEE makes a grab at it, but it is hauled quickly up again. 

Both shake fists at one another and stamp. 

Kameha kicks Ochee over light and exits into hut. 

OcHEE comes out of hut, pushing infant Feejee before him up 
to the kettle. 

Infant turns round, with hands together, and begs to be 
spared. 

OcHEE boxes his ears and carefully puts him in the kettle 
and exits {left). 

Kameha, putting out his head from hut, watches these pro- 
ceedings with satisfaction, withdrawing his head when Ochee 
leaves. 
{Enter Sleek, left, with umbrella under arm, and book in left 

hand, as if reading.) 
. Sleek, making gestures with right hand, asif preaching, ad- 
vances slowly. Starts, looks around him, dips finger in kettle, 
withdrawing it quickly, as if burned; blows on his finger and ex- 
amines it closely. He again looks in kettle, and discovers in- 
fant ; lays down book and umbrella ; holds up hands in horror ; 
lifts it out and wipes it off with his hands. 

Infant runs off {left). 

Kameha puts his head out of hut and draws it in again. 

Ochee comes out of hut on all fours and goes toward Sleek. 



220 WJSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Sleek turns suddenly, sees the hut, and steps toward it, but 
tumbles over Ochee ; gets up slowly, rubbing himself; tries to 
grasp Ochee, who jumps over light. 

Kameha appears at door of hut with bow and arrow. {He 
must shoot so as to liit the hook, ivhich Sleek holds conveniently 
for the purpose.) Holds up hands in amazement, at his shot 
being warded off; kneels dow^n and kisses Sleek's foot in token 
of submission. 

Ochee enters {left), behind Sleek, looks in kettle, finds the in- 
fant gone, turns round, sees Sleek, creeps up to him, runs knife 
round his head and scalps him {lifts his ivig off), and throws 
scalp to Kameha. 

Sleek puts hands to head and stamps with pain. 

Kameha runs into hut, returns with tomahawk, hits Sleek 
on head, knocking him dowu, and general scuffle on top of 
Sleek {affording opportunity for Sleek to roll aivay hack under 
light, a?zd the stuffed figure to he rolled into his place; during 
this the light must be raised up gradually about two feet, and 
then transferred to the "■ second position^ See page 210). 

Both get up slowly, one at each end of the figure. 

Kameha lifts one leg of figure and lets it drop. 

Ochee lifts one of the arms and drops it again ; lifts the fig- 
ure to a standing position {holding it by the middle of back with 
one hand). 

Kameha examines arm, leg, etc., rubs his stomach, then 
rubs his hands with satisfaction and goes into hut. 

Ochee lets the figure slope backward, as if heavy, and pushes 
it upright again, staggering. Same business repeated. 

Kameha comes out of hut with saw, seizes an arm and cuts 
it off. Takes hold of the figure and hands the arm to 
Ochee. 

Ochee takes it to the kettle, drops it in, cuts a caper, and 
looks in after it. {The arm stretches up out of the kettle, hits 
Ochee on the head, and falls back into the kettle. This is done by 
the manager, from the side, using his oivn arm and fist.) He 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 221 

rubs Ills bead, turns round and takes the fl.gure again from 
Kameha. 

Kameha cuts the other arm off and holds the figure as before. 

OcHEE takes the arm to the kettle, again receiving a blow on 
the head which knocks him backward, upsetting the figure 
and Kameha; general fight again, ending by their resuming 
their former positions. 

The same business is repeated with the legs, which are in 
turn cut off and transferred to the kettle ; last of all the head. 

Kameha examines the body and sits down on it. 

Both rest a moment, watching the pot, which begins to 
steam. 

Kameha gets up, goes to the pot, pulls out a leg, tries it 
with his teeth, struggling violently to bite a piece. No go; 
throws it back in pot. {The lody has meanwhile been withdrawn 
hy means of a hooked stick. ) Goes back to seat himself again and 
tumbles over backward ; looks around for the body ; it is gone ; 
takes hold of Ochee, points to the spot where the body was ly- 
ing, and boxes his ears. Points to kettle and shoves Ochee 
toward it. 

Ochee looks in kettle, lifts an arm half out, which knocks him 
down. 

Kameha picks him up, kicks him, goes to kettle, and is also 
knocked down by a leg ; sits up, rubs his eyes ; gets up and 
looks again in kettle, puts his hand in, but finds nothing. 
( The chicken is now let down from D on to his head and the manager 
crows) : looks up quickly, sees chicken {which is drawn up tvifh 
a single jerk) ; rubs his eyes, looks up where the chicken dis- 
appeared ; looks again in kettle, and finding nothing gets in a 

ssion ; turns round, stumbling over Ochee ; gets up and faces 
Ochee, points to his arms and then to the kettle, to his legs 
and head and again to the kettle ; makes a motion as much as 
to say '^they are all gone." Points again at kettle. 

Ochee looks at kettle also. {The head sticks out of the poi 
and makes a Ha ! Ha ! !) 



222 WSAT SHALL WE DO TONIGHT? 

Both start and run into hut, returning cautiously on tip- 
toe. 

{Light to *' first position,^' while both are in hut.) 

Sleek, dressed as before, with wig and liat on, enters slowly 
{left), exactly as at first. 

Kameha sees him first, and his hair stands on end with fear. 
Trembles excessively and jumps over light. 

OcHEE then sees Sleek, and rolls over back into the hut. 

Sleek points at him and then at the book, which he holds up 
aloft as the triumph of civilization over barbarism. {A low 
chair or stool is handed him over the light.) Puts the chair in 
centre of curtain, mounts it and gesticulates as if preaching 
{moving continually/ to hide the effect of the change of position in 
the light J which should be very gradually raised perpendicularly 
from its position to about five feet from the ground). When at 
that height, he finally makes a bow and steps down from chair 
{straight back under the light). {To the audience, Sleek will seem 
to step down into the ground.) 

{Curtain.) 



Ah Sin in Search of a Meal. 

CHARACTERS. 

Chinamai^ — Hungry and moneyless, in search of a meal. 
Restaueant Keeper — With a very mixed bill of fare. 
Waiter — Too active to wait long. 
Carpenter — With such a saw as you never saw before. 

COSTUMES. 

Chinamai^ — This part should be sustained by a small thin per- 
son dressed in tight drawers ; short sack coat, with short 
sleeves; Chinese cap, with brim turned up all round; a 
long pigtail back of head ; long moustache, hanging down 
about a foot, made of soft cord ; and, if possible, short 
thick shoes, in Chinese style ; a piece of putty stuck on the 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 223 

tip of his nose, so as to make a handsome pug (if naturally 
so gifted omit the putty), and high cheek bones, made with 
the same material, will add greatly to the Celestial make- 
up of his appearance. 

EESTATJEAi!fT ELeeper should be portly, or be padded to appear 
so, and should wear an apron in addition to a plain Chi- 
nese costume ; he must have no hat, but wear his hair 
smooth on his head, with pigtail and moustache. 

Waiter is best represented by a thin-legged person, who can 
take a long stride, and wears neither coat nor hat ; a short 
apron will complete his costume ; his head got up as ludi- 
crously as possible, and in Chinese style. 

Carpe:n^tee need be distinguished only by a square paper cap. 

Properties : — Large Saw with exaggerated teeth. Bill-of-fare : 
a strip of strong paper, six inches wide and three feet long, 
with different designs cut out in succession ; for instance ; 
a string of four or five sausages, a frog, a fowl, a pig, a nice 
pair of rats, a snake, a cat, a dog, half a dozen eggs, and 
as much as will fill the paper in length, of such humorous 
objects as the fancy may suggest. Articles corresponding 
with the bill-of-fare, made of pasteboard. Restaurant- 
check, consisting of a square paper with $12 cut in it in the 
manner shown in the illustration, Fig. 76. Basket. 




Fig. 76. 
SCENE. 

The right edge of curtain should be trimmed with Chinese cor- 
nices similar to the side of a pagoda ; and from the upper part 



224 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

a swinging sign, with the words, Re staurant— No Tkust, 
cut in it ; this can all be done by cutting the required shapas 
out of stout paper (see Fig. 7Q) and pinning them on the curtain. 

{Light in "first position.''^) 

{Enter Cmin. amain over light.) 

CKiNAii/LAN, staggering with weakness from extreme hunger, 
manifested by pressing both hands on stomach, pointing with 
finger repeatedly to open mouth, and sadly shaking the head 
and waving the hands. In the course of his agonies he catches 
sight of the restaurant-sign and goes through action of dehght, 
cutting capers, throwing up and catching his hat, etc.; at last 
summons Restaurant Keeper, by stamping twice with foot and 
and majestically beckoning with one arm ; then stands with 
folded arms, waiting. 

Restaurant Keeper enters (right), obsequiously bowing 
and rubbing his hands one over the other. 

Chinaman demands food {stamps twice and points with fin- 
ger to open mouth), and then points with hand {off right), as if 
instructing him to go and fetch something to eat. 

Restaurant Keeper unrolls a long bill-of-fare, pointing to 
jthe dififerent articles on it, as if for the Chinaman to select to 
his taste. 

Chinaman selects a great variety, and exhibits signs of 
impatience. 

Restaurant Keeper turns to go {off right), and receives an 
additional impetus from Chinaman's leg. 

Chinaman continues to manifest severe internal pangs of 
hunger, pointing to open mouth, and rolling on the ground on 
his stomach, and a variety of other contortions. {This should 
he the result of careful practice, as the shadow can he macte to 
assume most ludicrous and impossible positions, if ingenuity he 
exercised). 

Waiter enters {rig'ht), empty handed, and is received with a 
fury of impatience by Chinaman, who finally chases him ofi" the 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 225 

stage {left), follows him, and both reappear immediately {over 
Tight) in flight and pursuit, and the Waiter escapes {off right). 

Chinaman, exhausted, puffs and blows, shaking fist {off 
right), and finally sits down, squatting {left of stage, facing right). 

Waiter enters {right), with a basket full of the articles 
Chinaman has ordered, and sets it down in front of him. 

Chinaman, in delightful anticipation, signs impatiently to 
Waiter to hand over the food quickly, and receives, one by one, 
a large number of objects from the Waiter, which he, with great 
ostentation, swallows, rubbing himself down the breast and 
showing signs of extreme delight, {The act of swallowing is 
accomplished hy passing the object just behind the shadow of the 
open mouth, and letting it drop dotvn at the side of the performer , 
where it can remain flat on the ground, and may be used over 
and over again, at the option of performer.) At last he comes 
to a big rat, which he holds up by the end of its long tail. At 
this rather less delicate morsel he hesitates, measures his open 
mouth with his fingers, and compares with size of rat. After 
some doubt, he crams it (apparently) down, but before he lets 
go of its tail (the only part now visible) he chokes, and tries to 
eject it, seemingly tugging at the tail to get it out, in which, 
after a protracted struggle, he succeeds, and shows symptoms 
of great relief; after viewing it a moment he again attempts to 
swallow it (having first bent it a trifle, so as to make its sbadow 
a degree thinner), and manages to worry it down. {During 
this time the performer must manage to stuff out the front of his 
drawers ivith a cloth, previously laid flat on the ground ; so that, 
when he gets up, his insides will appear to have benefited by his 
repast.) He now gets up, throws basket {over light), and then 
kicks Waiter {over light), and dances around, delighted to find 
that his stomach is in better condition. 

Kestattrant Keepee enters {right) and goes through busi- 
ness of complimenting him on his improved appearance, con- 
cluding with politely requesting his money, handing Chinaman 
a $12 restaurant -check. 



226 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

CHii!rAMAi!7 as politely receives it and gracefully bows Ees- 
taurant Keeper out. {Exit Restaurant Keeper j right.) He then 
regards the card with astonishment, pulls both pockets inside 
out. feels all over himself, looks in his shoes — can't find a cent ; 
first appears greatly troubled, then stands in attitude of deep 
thought {left hand on right elbow, head bent down a little, and 
righ t forefinger tapping forehead) . 

Eestauhant Keeper enters {right), demands his money, 
{holds out left hand, palm upward, and taps it with back of fin- 
gers of right hand, also palm upward). 

Chii!^ ama:n' conveys him the information that he has none. 

Eestaueant Keeper indignantly and peremptorily demands 
it; working himself up into a passion, threatening Chinaman. 

Chin^amait falls on his knees and begs to be spared. 

Eestauean^t Keeper won't hear of it ; calls {claps his hands 
three times) for Waiter, who enters {over light) and orders him 
to fetch the Carpenter (points upward and goes through motions 
of sawing) . Exit Waiter (left), returning immediately {same way) 
with Carpenter. 

{Light transferred to ^^ second position.''^) 

Eestatjrant Keeper signs to Carpenter that Chinaman has 
eaten till his stomach has swelled, and then won't pay, and ex- 
plains bj - signs that he wants Carpenter to cut him open, in order 
to get his food back again. 

CHi]srAMA:tf, horror-stricken, implores for mercy, but can 
make no impression on the obdurate Eestaurant Keeper, and 
finally tragically faints {centre of stage) from terror. Es:it Ees- 
taurant Keeper {right). 

Carpenter with a great deal of preparation and fuss, with 
the assistance of Waiter, who holds Chinaman's legs down, com- 
mences to saw him open, longitudinally, of course. 

Positions — Chinaman, lying full length on ground, head to 
right. Waiter {left), kneeling, with hands on Chinaman's feet, 
Carpenter {right), with left hand on Chinaman's forehead, hold- 
ing his head down, saw in right hand, going through motion 



THE SEVENTEENTH EVENING. 227 

of sawing, apparently getting deeper at eacli cut. {TJiis action 
takes place at side of, and not on Chinaman ; the saiv will thus 
appear to penetrate.) 

Waitek, laughing, picks up all the articles that Chinaman 
swallowed {now lying fiat hy Chinaman's side), one by one, 
looks at them and throws them over light. ( While this is going 
on the cloth musthe tvithdratcnfrom Chinaman's drawers, so that 
his stomach will have shrunk to its former meagre dimensions.) 

CnrN'AMAE' during this operation occasionally gives a twitc^i 
or a start, as if of pain. 

Cahpentek then goes off (left), returning with a stout twine, 
and long {wire) needle, and immediately goes through the motion 
of sewing up Chinaman's much-abused inwards, at conclusion 
of which all exeunt {left), except Chinaman. 
{Light to ^' fi,r St position.") 

Chin'AMAN" gradually recovers ; rubs his eyes, as if he had 

been dreaming. Gazes with dismay at his reduced stomach, 

and after a little by -play of uncertainty what to do gets slowly 

over the light. 

{Curtain.) 



WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



^IQHT^^JMTH ^V^J^IJMQ. 



The pleasures of this evening can commence with an exhibi- 
tion of 

Mesmerism. 

The mesmerist and his confederate, who has been duly in^ 
structed; enter the room in which the audience is seated. 

The mesmerist carries a slight cane or wand, and stands di- 
rectly behind his confederate, the cane being pointed at the 
confederate's back, and touching it lightly. While conversation 
goes on amongst the audience the two stand apparently mo- 
tionless, in the attitude shown in Fig. 77 ; but when one of the 




Fig. 77. 

audience speaks the mesmerist gently pushes the wand to at- 
tract his confederate's attention to the person speaking. Still 



THE EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 229 

they stand motionless, apparently, for a little longer, when the 
confederate goes into the hall. 

The mesmerist then i^oints oat certain persons with his 
wand, saying as he does so, ''cane points!" ''cane points!" 
(which words the confederate repeats) until he points to the 
person who was speaking when he slightly pushed his confed- 
erate. As he points to him he cries out " cane rests! '-' when the 
confederate in the hall immediately calls out the name of the 
person indicated. 

This can be repeated as often as the audience wish, and in 
the hands of expert performers is very puzzling, as the motion 
that informs the confederate is so very slight as to be imper- 
ceptible to the spectators. 

By placing the audience in front, and not at the side of the 
exhibitor, this illusion, if neatly performed, can never be de- 
tected. 

When the mesmerist has made a graceful bow to conclude his 
performance, propose a game of 

The Poetical Butterfly. 

The butterfly, being chosen from the company, has the priv- 
ilege of naming the others according to his own fancy, the ladies 
being flowers or trees, the gentlemen birds or insects. The 
butterfly, flying from one to the other, requires each one to tell 
some story or legend connected with the tree, flower, bird or 
insect named, or quote some piece of poetry written in his hon- 
or. Any one failing must pay a forfeit. 

EXAMPLE : 

Butterfly. What a lovely garden this is into which I have 
wandered ? On every side I see the fairest flowers and most 
graceful trees, hear the song of the birds and drowsy hum of 
the insects. I am weary {turning to a lady). Fair Rose, will you 
tell me your story ? 



230 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Rose — 

" I'm the last rose of summer, 
Left blooming alone ; 
All my lovely companions 
Are faded and gone." 

BuTTERFLT. Dear me ! how sad ! But really, madam, you 
are too sad to suit my present mood ; I see an Eagle resting 
near me {turning to a gentleman). Will your majesty favor me 
with your story ? 

Eagle — 

" "With, storm-daring pinion, and sure gazing eye, 
The Gray Forest Eagle is king of the sky." 

Butterfly. Well, it is a fine thing, no doubt, to have a good 
opinion of oneself, but I'll try a little modesty for a change 
{turning to a lady). Fair Violet, will you favor me with a 
greeting ? 

Violet — * 

" Oh ! faint, delicious, spring-time violet, 
Thine odor, like a key, 
Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let 
A thought of sorroAv free ! " 

Butterfly. Bless me ! how dolorous all these fair flowers 
are {turning to a gentleman) ! Sir Lark, can you not favor me 
with a livelier verse ? 

Lark — 

" The meny lark, he soars on high, 
No worldly thought o'ertakes him ; 
He sings aloud to the clear blue sky, 
And the daylight that awakes him." 

Butterfly. That is better ! I will see if this stately oak 
tree will deign to speak to me {turning to a lady). 

Oak. No familiarities, sir, if you please. I am a famous tree ; 
no less than the Charter Oak of Connecticut, where the State 
charter was concealed in 1687. 

Butterfly. Ah ! Have you been putting on airs ever since ? 
I had no idea you were so old, really {turning to a gentleman) ! 
How now,' Sir Owl; what are you doing abroad in the day-time ? 



THE EIGETEENTR EVENING. 231 

Owl— 

" Mourn not for the Owl, nor Ms gloomy plight ; 
The owl has his share of good : 
If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight, 
He is lord in the dark greenwood ! " 

Butterfly. Fly away then and favor us with a httle hoot- 
ing this evenmg {turning to a lady). Fair Lily, have you a 
story? 

Lilt. Has not Shakspeare himself immortahzed my perfec- 
tion, declaring it a waste of time to '^ paint the lily ? " 

Butterfly. True, indeed ; and who has sung the praises 
{turning to a lady) of this delicate Primrose ? 

Primrose. Wordsworth, Sir Butterfly. 

" Long as there's a sun that sets, 
Primroses will have their glory." 

Butterfly. Do I see a Nightingale {turning to a gentle- 
man)'^. 
Nightin-gale— 

" Prize thou the Nightingale, 
Who soothes thee with his tale, 
And wakes the woods around ; 
A singing feather he — a winged and wandering sound." 

It is not necessary to make a poetical quotation, but any as- 
sociation that is familiar may be recalled, as the Boses of York 
and Lancaster, the Laurel that crowns heroes, the Bove being 
the emblem of innocence. The various fables of mythology 
will suggest emblematic flowers and birds, as the Peacock being 
the attendant of Juno, and Ceres wearing corn-flowers as a 
wreath. 

After the butterfly has taxed the memory of all, or collected 
some forfeits, suggest a game of 

The Auctioneer. 

One of the company being selected for auctioneer, the others 
each write upon a slip of paper the name of some article, the 



232 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

auctioneer putting one blank slip amongst the number. All 
these are folded and are put into a hat and shaken up, the auc- 
tioneer marking one, as the bid that he will accept. The play- 
er drawing the blank slip is then put up at auction and the 
players bid for him in turn, naming the article written upon 
their slip as the price they are willing to pay. When he is 
finally knocked down to the owner of the marked shp he must 
obey one command, and afterwards more slips are written and 
another blank slip is drawn, to be put up at auction. 

EXAMPLE : 

All the slips being written, the auctioneer marks one, puts 
one blank into the hat, and passes it round for all to draw. 
A. draws the blank, and is put up at auction. The auctioneer 
now commences the sale, each bidding what is written upon the 
slip he or she has drawn, till the auctioneer recognizes the slip 
he has marked. 

Auctioneer. Here is Mr. A., remarkable for his 'fine head 
of hair and a superb tenor voice ! Who bids for Mr. A.? 

B — . I bid a tin saucepan ! 

Auctioneer. A tin saucepan is bid for Mr. A. Going ! 
going ! for a tin saucepan, going ! 
- C — . I bid a waterproof cloak ! 

Auctioneer. Going ! going ! Here's your fine curly-haired 
gentleman going for a waterproof cloak. Who bids higher?- 
Going ' 

D— . I bid a mint stick ! 

Auctioneer. G(5ing, for a mint stick ! A mint stick ! Keally, 
ladies and gentlemen, this is absurd ! A nice, well-behaved 
young man, with a fine head of hair and a tenor voice, going 
for a mint stick ! Why, his voice alone is worth more ! Going ! 

E — . I bid a ginger-snap ! 

Auctioneer. I wonder you are not ashamed, miss ! A gin- 
ger-snap ! Look at this superb young man ! A ginger-snap is 
bid ! Going ! 

F — . I bid a brush and comb ! 



THE EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 233 

Auctioneer. Going! going ! gone! Mrs. F., this fine 
young man is yours. What will you bid him dof 

F — . As you dwelt so much upon his voice, I command 
him to sing for us. 

Mr. A. having obeyed, the game recommences. In the hands 
of a witty auctioneer this is a very merry game, allowing wide 
margin for compliment and sarcasm in crying up the individ- 
uals put up at auction. It is apt to be varied by requests from 
the victim to the auctioneer to ^^ shut up ! " or '^stop quizzing a 
fellow when he can't help himself ! " 

As there is always one slip left in the hat, it sometimes hap- 
pens to be the marked one. In that case, when all have made 

a bid, the auctioneer says : '^ I have bought Mr. in, for a 

ring," or whatever is written on that slip. Each of the others 
must then pay a forfeit. 

When the company are tired of this game one of the gentle- 
men may amuse them for a short time with 

The Tame Dime. 

Provide yourself with a long, dark hair, by favor of one of 
your lady friends; or, if you are bashful, a lady's hair-dresser 
wiJl prove an unfailing friend in need. At one eni of the hair 
attach a hooked pin, or a loop, by which secure it to your vest 
(a dark one, of course); at the other end fasten a very small 
piece of wax, and allow the hair to hang down ready for use 
when required. Arrange a small table in a convenient position, 
facing the audience, and place upon it a glass of water; then 
ask some one to lend you a silver dime. It is well to be pro- 
vided with one beforehand, as you may not always be able to 
borrow one; and, if this should be the case, you must allow it 
to be examined to show that it is neither more nor less than 
represented. 

When the dime is returned to you it should be stated that it 
is important that the date on it is an odd or even number, as 



234 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGBTf 

the case may be (which must be previously ascertained); this 
affords an opportunity for slipping the hand under the hair and 
securing the waxed end of it to the coin. You now retire be- 




riG. 78. 
hind the table, facing the audience, lay the dime upon it about 
a foot from the edge nearest to you, and order it to move to the 
right or left, moving the body at the same time in the desired 
direction and beckoning to the dime with your finger to follow 
you. When it has reached near the edge of the table, you can 
stretch out one arm toward it and order it up your sleeve; this 
is done by appearing to lead it, but really drawing it, up with 
the other hand. Then replace it near the edge of the table, 
hold the glass of water close by and below it, and command it 
by "one, two, three," to jump into the glass. Lastly, with the 
disengaged hand, make it leap up out of the glass, catch it dex- 
terously, and wipe it dry on your handkerchief, at the same 
thoroughly removing the wax with the thumb-nail. It may then 
be returned to its owner, or again passed around for public 
scrutiny. Or, if the performer be already prepared for the trick 
of the ''Vanishing Dime " (see page 244), it may be introduced 



THE EIGHTEENTH EVENING. 



235 



with excellent effect; when handing the dime back to its owner, 
conceaUug, meanwhile, in left hand, the dime you have borrowed. 
While the conjurer is busy an ingenious gentleman may em- 
ploy himself by making 

An Old Ap|)le Woman, 

to raise a laugh. The requisites are a good-sized fist, a cap, 
and large silk handkerchief The fist being doubled up, a face 
is painted upon it in India-ink or black water- color, and the cap 
is then tied carefully around it. If there is not a baby-cap to 
be had a substitute can easily be made similar to Fig. 79. 




riG. 79. 



This being ready, thrust in a fist, painted as in Fig. 80, and 
you have the face complete. Now pin the handkerchief like a 




Fig. 80. 

gay shawl under the chin, and you have a perfect old woman's 



236 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIChHTf 



face. A pipe between the lips adds to the funny effect, 
shown in Fig. 81. 




Pig. 81. 



To make this hard-fisted old woman talk, the knuckle of the 
thumb must be worked up and down, and the voice seem to 
come, as nearly as possible, from the mouth thus formed. 

Supposing her to be an Irish apple woman, she may thus 
soliloquize, between the cries of her trade. 

'^Apples! here's yer foine pippins; shillin' a half peck! 
An' how are ye the day, Biddy? I haven't sane ye the long 
time back. Apples ! foine pippins ; shillin' a half peck ! Cowld, 
did ye say? You're tellin' no lie. I'm frozen out a'most sittin' 
here, an' not makin' enough to buy a pinch o' tay. Apples! 
Here's yer foine pippins ; shillin' a half peck ! An' did ye hear 
about Mickey, Biddy darlint ? Oh, it's the beautiful i)lace he's 
got on the railway, if he's not kilt wid some of the'r blow-ups 
or smashes. Apples ! Here's yer foine pippins ; shillin' a half 
peck ! I'm that proud of 'im, Biddy, the broth of a b'y, in that 



THE EIGHTEENTH E VENING. 237 

place, and I'm that worried for fear he'll come to harrum on the 
rails, that I don't know a moment's pace o' me life. Apples-' 
Here's yer foine pippins ; shillin' a half peck !" 

When the apple woman has been sufficiently applau 
introduce a capital trick game, called 

The Magic Aiis^v\^er. 

Only two of the company know the trick. One of them is to 
leave the room while the others name an article that she is to 
guess upon her return. She knows that her accomplice will 
name the right article after she has named one beginning with 
a vowel. 

EXAMPLE : 

The article selected is the mantel-clock. The leader calls 
the guesser into the room, and asks her, 

''Is it a mirror? " 

'' No." 

''Is it the centre-table?" 

" No. " 

" Is it this painting? " 

" No." 

"Is it this book?" 

" No." 

"Is it the album?" 

"No." 

"Is it the clock?" 

"Yes." 

Album, beginning with a vowel, guides the answer. The game 
is varied by naming the right article after some object with four 
legs, as a table or a chair, or some object beginning with a let- 
ter agreed upon by the leader. 



238 WHAT SHALL WE DO TONIGHTt 



jSl]METKJMTH J)VENI]MQ. 

A Very pleasing game will be found a good beginning for this 
evening's entertainment; entitled 

Opinions. 

A lady and gentleman are selected from the company, one for 
a Judge and the other for a Fair Lady. The Fair Lady is seat- 
ed upon a chair that stands a little apart from the others, and 
the Judge is proTided'with a pencil and sheet of paper. ^ 

Each of the company now whispers to the Judge aR opinion 
of the Fair Lady. 

As each one advances the Judge says : 

" My Lady Fair sits on her throne, 
Each has an opinion, i;ell me your own." 

As the opinions are uttered the Judge writes them upon his 
paper. When all are given he reads them from his paper, 
tal5:ing care to avoid giving them in the order in which they 
were whispered.- As he reads each one the Fair Lady guesses 
whose opinion it was, until she guesses the right one. Every 
wrong guess costs her a forfeit. If she guesses right at a gen- 
tleman's name, he becomes Judge and can select his own Fair 
Lady; if at a lady's name, she becomes Fair Lady andean select 
her own Judge. 

EXAMPLE : 

The Fair Lady and Judge being chosen, each one whispers 
an opinion. The Judge writes all down till every one has 
spoken. He then reads : 



THE NINETEENTH EVENING. 239 

"Somebody says that the Fair Lady bas not dressed her 
hair becomiugiy this evening." 

The Fair Lady guesses the author of this profound opinion, is 
wrong, and pays a forfeit. 

Judge reads again : 

'^Somebody says that the Fair Lady is hke a rosebud for 
beauty and a violet for modesty." 

Fair Lady guesses again, and so on, until she has guessed the 
right one, who then becomes Judge or Fair Lady in turn. 

Compliments and criticisms have full scope, as each one has 
the chance of remaining undiscovered. 

As this game closes, the servant knocks at the door and an- 
nounces : 

'' A gentleman has called for Miss A ." 

Hostess. Oh it is too early for her to go. May I not invite 
your friend in. Miss A ?" 

Miss A , quite bewildered, replies that there was no gen- 
tleman to call for her, as her escort came with her. 

Hostess directs the servant to Invite the gentleman to walk 
in, 



The Distinguislied Stranger. 

He bows to the company, and announces that he would like 
to speak to Mademoiselle A . His accent is foreign, his En- 
glish very much crippled. Be wildered Miss A rises and bows 

He may then continue to puzzle the party, until some sharp- 
sighted individual discovers that he is one of their own number 
who has changed his face, as seen in Fig. 82. 

The straight-nosed, closed-mouthed gentleman has effectually 
disguised himself by turning up his nose, knocking out one of 
his front teeth and giving his hair a brushing up from his face, 
or covering his hair with a fancy wig. 

The nose was turned up by putting one coarse white horse- 
hair under the end and fastening the ends of the horsehair se- 



240 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO- NIGHT? 



curely to the hat, with sufficient tension to draw up the end of 
the nose. A pug of the most impertinent prominence may thus 




Fig. 82. 

be manufactured from the Roman, Grecian or aquihne nasal 
organ at very short notice. Over the tooth a piece of black 
court-plaster has been fastened, and the change is marvelous. 
A change of hat and necktie is desirable. 

Supposing all to be now ready for a merrier game, select a 
victim for the trick, and commence the game of 



X The Farm-yard. 

The leader says : 

" I am going to start a farm-yard and each one of you must 
personate some animal. I will whisper to each what animal he 
or she is to be, and when I give the signal all must make the 
noise of the animal they represent. 

" The sheep will ba-a, the rooster crow, and soon, when I say 
three — counting One ! two ! three !" 

He then walks round the circle whispering to each one, 



THE NINETEENTH EVENING. 241 

" Keep perfectly quiet !" excepting the unfortunate victim, to 
whom he whispers, '' Bray like a donkey." 

" No w ! Attention ! Keep your eyes fixed upon me, and when 
I say THREE, rise to your feet, and make the noise of the an- 
imal you personate ; and bear in mind that you are all expect- 
ed to do your duty with a will." '^ 

At the signal all keep their seats in silence excepting the 
donkey, vYho starts to his feet and brays lustily. 

A very self-conceited man, who does every thing with aa 
affected air, makes a capital victim for this trick. 

A good game may now be introduced to test the wits of the 
company, called 

Antliors. 

This is a good illustration of the fact that the most familiar 
quotations are often made without any idea of their origin. 
Nine out of ten, even in a well-read circle, will be attributed to 
wrong authority. 

The game consists in making quotations, and giving the name 
of the author. One quotes, and the one on his left gives the au- 
thority, starting a new quotation for the one on his left. If 
the guess is wrong he pays a forfeit, and it goes round the cir- 
cle, collecting forfeits till some one gets it right and starts a 
new one. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader — 

" 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print ; 
A book's a book, although there's nothing in't." 

First Plater. Byron ! 

"The worst men often give the best advice." 

Seco:n"d Player. Shakspeare ! 
First Player. Wrong! Forfeit! 
Third Player. Bailey's Festus ! 

" "WTio soars too near the sun, with golden wings, 
Melts them ; to ruin his own fortune brings." 



242 WHAT SHALL WE DO T0-NIGHT7 

FouPwTH Player. That is Sbakspeare ! 

"A man couvinced agaiust his will 
Is of the same opiuiou still." 

FiPTH Player. Here's my forfeit. I know the quotation* 
but not the author. 
Sixth Player. Butler, is it not ? 

" There's beauty all around our paths 
If but oui" watchful ejes 
Could trace it 'midst familiar thiuga 
Aud through their lowly guise." 

SEVEiJ^TH Player. Hemaus ! 

" A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 

Eighth Player. Shelley ! 

" The oyer curious are not over wise." 

Ninth Player. Massinger ! 

'' Where ignorance is bUss, 
'Tis folly to be wise." . 

Tenth Player. Gray ! 

"Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour, 
I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
I never loved a tree or flower, 
But 'twas the first to fade away." 

Eleventh Player. Moore ! But I know a game of authors, 
livelier than this, that we played last winter with great success, 
and christened 

Likenesses. 

Silly name, perhaps, but we voted upon it, and it stands upon 
the records of our sociables. 

Each of you must think of the name of some author and give 
it in other language for us to guess. A wrong guess pays a for- 
feit; a right one gives the next author. I will give you an 
example : 

What author is like the houses we live in ? 

A — . Holmes ! 

Correct. Give us the next one. 

A—. What author is like a covering for the headf 

B — . Hood ! What author can never grow old ? 



THE NINETEENTH EVENING. SJ43 

C — . Young! What author horrifies holy Hebrews ? 

D — . Hogg ! What author belongs to a religious order ? 

E — . Abbott ! What author would you name if you di- 
rected some one to commit a theft ? 

F — . Steele ! What author often grows in hedges "? 

G- — . Hawthorne! What author tells you to peruse his 
works ? 

H — . Eeade ! What three authors would you name at a fire ? 

I — . Dickens! Howitt ! Burns! That is not original; H — . 
Try another. 

H — . What author resembles a lady of fashion ? 

I — . Gay ! What author is like swampy ground ? 

J — . Marsh ! 

This game may be varied to name persons of distinction in 
other walks besides literature, and will always pass an hour 
pleasantly amongst well-informed people. 

EXAMPLE. 

Leadee. What great general makes coats ? 

Number One. Taylor ! What great statesman would a fly 
name as he visited the home of a spider? 

Number Two. Oh ! oh ! Web-ster ! that's clear. What 
prince ought to live in the sea? 

Number Three. Prince of W(h)ales, of course ! What 
general in the Mexican war do we see every day? 

Number Four. Pillow ! What general calls John father. 

Number Five. Jack('s)son ! What president was the father 
of all men ? 

Number Six. Adams ! What great inventor grows upon 
rocks and stones ? 

Number Seven. Morse! Ya-as; that's high-toned. What 
great explorer belongs in the kitchen ? 

Number Eight. Cook ! What great explorer can you carry 
in your hand ? 

Number Nine. Kane ! What great pirate is a very harm- 
less domestic animal? 



g44 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Number Te]N". Kidd ! 

In a quick-witted company, battles or other great events 
may be punned upon in the same manner, and the more exe- 
crable the jokes the greater the merriment. We have heard 
Luckenow given as a Scotcliman's definition of content, and 
others as far-fetched, yet enjoyed for their very absurdity ; in 
fact, the more ridiculous a thing is, the heartier the laugh which 
must inevitably follow it. A great deal of entertainment may 
be caused by complicated games and intricate tricks ; they 
serve to rivet attention, amuse the fancy, and, by raising the 
curiosity of the company, while away the time most pleasantly; 
but the introduction, occasionally, of something utterly absurd 
and entirely simple in its nature, is sure to elicit an irrepressi- 
ble burst of merriment, and adds a zest to the other quieter 
amusements of the evening. 

The conjurer may now exhibit the perplexing trick of 

The Vanishing Dime. 

Get a small hole drilled in a silver dime, close to the rim, 
through which pass and secure the end of a piece of the thinnest 
black elastic cord that you can procure, about five or six inches 
long. Next, take a common hook and eye; fasten the hook on 
to the end of the cord, and sew the eye on the outside of your 
right shirt-sleeve, in such a position that the dime, when the 
cord is hooked into the eye, will rest two inches up the coat- 
sleeve and underneath the wrist. Then hook the cord on and 
press the hook close over the eye to prevent it from becoming 
unfastened. To perform the trick, draw the dime down with 
the left hand, and hold it between the thumb and forefinger of 
the right hand, keeping the hand in such a position as to con- 
ceal the cord. Offer the dime to one of the company, telling 
him to be sure and hold it fast. Just as he is on the point of 
taking it relax your hold of it and it will disappear instantly up 
your sleeve. This constitutes one of the most effective tricks 



THE mNETEENTH EVENING, SI45 

that can be performed, if neatly done, and makes a capital 
finishing-stroke to conclude the trick of the ''Tame Dime" (see 
page 233). If it can be obtained, a piece of India-rubber thread, 
such as is used in weaving elastic webbing, is still better than 
the black cord, as it is thinner, and closely matches the color of 
the skin. The elastic material used for garters and shirt-sleeve 
bands contains several threads of this kind of India-rubber, and 
one may be easily drawn out for the purpose. 
Conclude the evening by 

The Giant Sneeze. 

Divide a party of persons into three divisions, each division 
standing separately. The persons in first division are to say^ 
when the word of command is given, ''hish," emphasizing the 
first ''h;" the second division are to say ''ash;'^ and the third, 
''osh." One of the party, who is selected as leader of the sneeze- 
orchestra, counts slowly, ''one, two, three;" and at the word 
^' three" the three divisions pronounce their appropriate sylla- 
bles simultaneously, and with all the power of their lungs. If 
there are sufflcient people present to furnish five or six in each 
division, the effect will be gigantic. A tolerably clear notion 
may be formed from this performance of the experiences of a 
primeval backwoodsman, Noah's great-uncle, for instance, when 
roused from a happy reverie by his favorite mastodon, or other 
antediluvian pet monster, suffering from an attack of influenza ; 
and then, by a further stretch of the imagination, picture to 
himself the grand effect produced by a family of such house-pets 
afflicted in the same manner. The roar of Niagara Falls would 
sink into puny insignificance in comparison with it. 



246 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



fwflNTIETH JJVENINQ. 

For this evening a most amusing entertainment may be pre- 
pared, called 

The Gallanty-Show. 

A gallanty-show can be got up with very little trouble in any 
house where there is a room which communicates with another 
apartment by means of folding- doors, so that the operator may 
be in one room and the spectators in another. The figures are 
to be cut out of card-board or very stiff paper, and their hmbs 
are to be made movable by forming them of separate pieces, 
and making them work on pivots of thread or wire. All the 
figures should be blackened on both sides, either with India-ink 
or lamp-black, mixed with water and size. The figures are to 
be worked behind a semi- transparent screen formed by stretch- 
ing a piece of linen or thin muslin over a wooden frame about 
three feet in width by two in depth. During the exhibition the 
screen is to be illuminated by a lamp or candle placed behind 
it at the distance of three or four feet. The screen must be sup- 
ported at the height of about five feet from the floor in the door- 
way between the two rooms, by a light framework of wood, or 
by auy other means which the ingenuity of the operator may 
devise. Curtains or shawls must now be hung over the doorway 
on the outside, so as to hide the showman from the spectators, 
and shut out all the light except that which passes through the 
linen screen. A piece of strong tape stretched along the bot- 
tom of the frame by a nail driven in at each corner serves to 
hold one figure in its proper position while the operator is en- 



THE TWENTIETH EVENING. 247 

gaged in moving another. The annexed engraving, Fig. 83, 
represents the interior of the gallanty-show, and shows how the 



j1 




Fig. 83. 



figures arc to be worl^ed ; the smaller boy holds all the figures, 
and hands them one at a time to the showman. The operator 
should j)ay particular attention to the actions of the different 
figures, while carrying on the dialogue, to see that they make 
appropriate gestures and movements with their heads, arms, 
and legs. He should also endeavor to give every character a 
distinctive style and pitch of voice ; sustaining the peculiarities 
of each unchanged throughout the performance of the piece. 

The following burlesque is a specimen of the kind of play 
most likely to cause amusement. 



248 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

The Crocodile of the IsTile. 

Scene I. — Egypt. A desert plain. On one side a single 
palm-tree ; on the other, a little hut. 
{Enter Sambo, running.) 
(The annexed illustration, Fig. 84, shows how this figure is to 
be cut out. The showman gives motion to the legs by means of 
the long slips of card-board attached to the feet. Sambo's eye 
may be made to roll about in a very comical manner, if the ex- 
hibitor will take the trouble to stretch a hair, with a black glass 
bead strung upon it, across the hole cut in the face to represent 
the white of the eye.) 




Fig. 84. 

Sambo. Gosh, golly t dis cullud population's done frighten to 
deff. Missis ! ole missis ! ef you don't done come down right 
off you'll be fotched in a hurry. 

{Enter Mks. Smith /rom the hut.) 

(The figure of Mrs. Smith (see Fig. 85) does not require much 
description. The arms are loosely attached to the shoulders 
and made to move up and down by a thread or wire passing 
behind the figure.) 

Mus. Smith. How dare you summon me in that rude man- 
ner ! My poor nerves have been in such a dreadful state ever 
since I left New York that I tremble like a leaf at the slightest 
noise. 

Sambo. Oh, missis ! I see sich a creatur ! 

Mks. Smith. Heavens ! What do you mean ? 



THE TWENTIETH EVENING. 24& 

Sambo. Great big monster, ninety, eleventy, hundred feet 
}ong — cobered all ober wid scales like de roof ob a house — hun- 
dred million teeth in him mouth, an' tail dat would reach all 
de way from yer to New York. 




Tig. 85. 

Mrs. Smith. Good gracious ! Oh ! why did Mr. Smith bring 
me to this dreadful country ? Where is your master, Sambo % 
Go and find him directly, and tell him he is a brute to leave his 
poor wife all alone by herself in this desert place. Oh, deary 
me ! Why did I ever marry a traveler ? {Exit Mrs. Smith 
into hut.) 

Sambo. S'pose I got to look for massa ; but if dat chap come 
^long one way, I go fodder, sartin. Nebber see eech an animil 
afore — ^nebber sence I was done born. {Exit Sambo.) 
{Enter Little Jim.) 

(The figure of the black child, httle Jim, shown in the illus- 
tration. Fig. 86; need not be made with movable limbs.) & 



t 



Fig. 86. 

Jim {calling after Sambo). Daddy, take dis nigger 'long ! 
Daddy-ee! {Cries.) 

{Enter the WondePwFul CPvOCODile.) 
(The figure of this remarkable animal should be very care- 



250 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



fully cut out. The tail and lower jaw work on pivots, and are 
moved, together with two of the legs, by means of two long 
slips of card. Its general appearance is given in Fig. 87.) 




riG. 87. 

{TJie Wonderful Crocodile eraivls slowly toward little Jim, 
seizes that hapless youngster, and hacks out with him 
between his huge jaws. Tlie child yells.) 
{Enter Mes. Smith.) 
Mrs. Smith. Mercy on us ! I thought I heard poor little Jim 
scream. I wonder where the little brat has gone to ? Oh, dear ! 
I wish my brute of a husband would come ! Oh, here he is, at 
last. How frightened he looks I 




Tig. 88. 

{Enter Smith.) 

(The legs and arms of this figure need not be formed of sep- 
arate pieces, as Smith plays an unimportant part in the drama.) 

Smith. Oh, my love ! I've seen a crocodile with poor little 
Jim in its enormous jaws. {Mrs. Smith screams.) Ah, my 
dear ! we are not safe an instant in this place. The authorities 
ought to put a stop to crocodiles and all dangerous reptiles. If 



THE TWENTIETH EVEXINQ. 251 

it comes again I shall call on the police. I am not afraid for 

myself nor for you. 

Mes. Smith. Oh, you heartless brute ! 

Smith. Be patient, my love ! I am only afraid for the safety 

of my valuable notes on the domestic habits of the ostrich. 

Mes. Smith. Botheration ! I wish you had never interfered 

with the ostrich, and had stopped at home like a sensible man. 

Oh, gracious goodness ! Look there ! {Screams.) 

{The Wonderful Crocodile makes its appearance, swallows 

Smith, and backs out again. Mrs. Smith continues 

screaming. ) 

(The swallowing is easily managed. The showman moves the 

crocodile close up to Smith, and pulls the latter figure out of 

sight.) 

{Enter Sambo.) 

Sambo. Can't find massa. Look for him eberywhere ! 

Mes. Smith. Oh, Sambo ! Your poor master ! 

Sambo. What ! hab de fellow wid de teeth eat him up? 

Mrs. Smith. Don't ask me. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 

Sambo. Where's little Jim ? 

Mes. Smith. He's with your poor master. 

Sambo. Oh, dear ! Poor little Jim, de pride ob my heart ! 
But see! Him come again. 

(TJie Crocodile appears at one side ; Sar/iho and Mrs. Smith 
run out, screaming, at the other. The monster, after 
opening and shutting its jatvs afeiv times, disappears.) 
{Enter Captaix, followed hy the Aemy). 

(The figure of one of the soldiers is represented in Fig. 89. 
The best plan of moving the soldiers across the stage is to 
fasten them to a long piece of tape, which is passed over two 
empty cotton-reels, turning on strong pins driven in the lower 
corners of the wooden frame ; the ends of the tape areiiistened 
together so as to form an endless band. The army will con- 
tinue on the march as long as the showman keeps turning one 
of the reels.) 



252 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

Captain. Forward, my brave men ! Let us exterminate 
the terrible monster without delay ! 



Tig. 89. 

{The Crocodile pops its head in on one side, and the soldiers 
all march into its mouth. Having eaten up the whole 
army, the monster retires.) 
{Enter Jack Bowline and Mks. Smith.) 
(The legs of the sailor (see Fig. 90) are movable, but the 
arms are cut out with the body. Each leg has a slip of card 
attached to it for the showman to hold.) 




riG. 90. 

Jack. Eaten your husband and a little black baby, say you ? 
Shiver my timbers ! I'll chop the lubber into mince-meat I 

Mrs. Smith. You're very good, sir ; but suppose the mon- 
ster should swallow you ! 

Jack. Swallow one of Uncle Sam's navy ! I should like to 
see him do it ! But where's that Sambo ? He promised to show 
me where this land-shark harbors. So come along, my httle 
craft ; let's take a cruise in chase of him. 



THE TWENTIETH EVENING. 253 

Mrs. Smith. If you kill the crocodile, sir, you will convey 
me to my aged papa, will you not ? 

Jack. I should think so ! The man who wouldn't protect 
a lovely widow and take her to her papa isn't worthy the 
name of an American sailor ! (Exeunt.) 

Scene II. — The Crocodiled' s Home on the Banks of the Nile. 
{Enter the Young Crocodile.) 




Fig. 91, 

(The comical figure of the youthful crocodile, shown in Fig. 
91, is easily worked by pulling the strip of card which is con- 
nected with the lower jaw and tail.) 

Young Crocodile {supposed to he speaking the Crocodilian 
language). Oh ! I do wish papa would come home ! I have 
had nothing to eat since breakfast, and then I only had two 
oxen and a few skinny Arabs. I'm so hungry ! Pa-pa-a-a ! 
pa-pa-a-a-a ! {Cries.) Oh ! here he comes, with something in 
his mouth. Hoor-ray ! La di diddle de, da de da. {Sings and 
dances in an absurd manner.) 
{Enter Wonderful Crocodile with Little Jim in his mouth.) 

Wonderful Crocodile {putting down Jim). Well, my son, 
I hope you've been a good little reptile in my absence. See! 
I've brought something nice for supper. 

YuuNG Crocodile. What a little bit ! That won't be 
enough. 

Wonderful Crocodile. Don't be greedy ! I'm going to 
bed, as I'm not very well. I swallowed a troop of soldiers this 



5S4 WHAT SHALL WE DO TONIGHT? 

afternoon, and their nasty guns and bayonets Lave given me a 
pain in my chest. I never could digest iron. Good night, my 
child ! Have your supper and go to bed. {Exit Wonderful 
Crocodile.) 

Young Crocodile. Good night, daddy ' Now for my 
supper. 

(Tries to catch little Jim, who runs backiuard and forward, 
crying all the time. After many unsuccessful attempts, 
the Crocodile catches Jim. ) 

{Enter Jack Bowline.) 
Jack. Hold hard, you lubber ! The crocodile that would go 
to eat a little baby like that isn't worthy the name of an Ameri- 
can sailor! 

{The Crocodile leaves Jim. and makes a rush at the Sailor.) 
Jack. What ! you fresh-water shark ! Do you want to try 
the temper of an American cutlass ? Blow my tarry top-lights ! 
Come on, then ! 

{Terrific combat betiveen Jack and the Young Crocodile. At 

the conclusion of the fight the Crocodile falls backward 

out of sight) 

Jack. Hurrah ! Three cheers for Uncle Sam and the 

horse-marines! {To Jim.) Now, young 'un, let me take you to 

your daddy ; then I'll come back and look for the father of the 

chap who was going to make salt-junk of you. The man who 

would be content with thrashing one crocodile isn't worthy of 

the name of an American sailor ! {Exeunt.) 



Scene III. — Down East. The sailor's native village. A 

pump on one side, a sign-board, with the words " The 

Jolly Sailor " cut out, on the other. 

{Enter Jack Bowline.) 

Jack, Here lam again in my native ^-illage, safe and sound 

as a new frigate ! Won't my blessed old dad be glad to set 

eyes on me, and won't all the folks stare when they see my 

tame crocodile ? Sambo, a-hoy I Tow the vessel into this port ! 



THE TWENTIETH EVENING. 255 

{Enter Sambo, leading the Wonderful Ckocodile hy a string, 
Little Jim. following.) 

Sambo. Here we am, massa ! Dat chap am tame as pos'ble. 
Tink Mm turn wegetarian, as him eat noting but grass an' 
clober. Him cry hke a child when me lick him ; an' I lick him 
good, too. 

Jack. It's a queer craft to look at. Let me get on deck. 
{Mounts the Crocodile.) Now I've taken Mrs. Smith home to 
her papa, I'll have a lark. Music, strike up ^'Fisher's Horn- 
pipe." The man who wouldn't dance a hornpipe on a croco- 
dile's back isn't worthy the name of an American sailor! 
{Dances a hornpipe on the hack of the Crocodile.) 

Sambo {also beginning to caper, adapting his movements to 
the music). Golly! Massa. Dat'sgood. 'Minds me ob de ole 
times down in ole Virginny. De nigger dat wouldn't dance to 
dat music ain't wurvy ob de name ob an 'Merican sailor. 

Jack. Stow that, you black lubber ! American sailor, in- 
deed ! 

Sambo. I'se a 'Merican sailor — good as you, massa. I'se a 
fifteenth 'mendment sailor, anyhow. 

Jack {jumping off Crocodile). I'll fifteenth amendment you ! 
{Knocks him off the stage. Sambo disappears. Jack again 
mounts on Crocodile, crowing.) 

{Curtain.) 



256 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

JWEj^TY-FIRgT ^Vf:jMINq. 
This evening the company first join in a game of 

Electricity. 

A portion of the company are requested to leave the room, 
and upon a centre-table are arranged a number of small 
articles, such as an inkstand, ash-holder, paper-weight, card- 
receiver, album, or like trifles. One of these is pointed out by 
the leader as the supposed '^battery." 

One of the absent players is then recalled, told he is to 
receive an electric shock, and requested to touch the articles 
upon the table. When his fingers fall upon the one pointed out 
by the leader the entire party cry ^' Oh! " suddenly, loudly and 
sharply. 

This will cause the victim to start as suddenly, and look as 
amazed, as if he had really experienced an electric shock. 

He then takes his seat amongst the initiated and gives the 
benefit of his lungs in the shout that is to " electrify " the next 
victim. 

After the company are again assembled in the drawing-room, 
ready for a new proposition, arrange them for a merry game of 

The Merchant of all Climes. 

The company are seated in a circle, and the game consists in 
guessing what each one has for sale, from the country he hails 
from and the initial -letter of his merchandise. The guesser 
gives the next question. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadeb. I am a merchant from China, and I sell F — . 



THE TWENTY-FIBST EVENINa 257 

A — . Fowls ! 

Le ADEE. Pay a forfeit ! Chinese merchants do n ot sell fowls. 

B^. Fireworks ! I am a French merchant and I sell S— . 

C — . Silks ! I am a Western merchant and I sell C — . 

D — . Corn ! I am a Turkey merchant, and I sell — . 

E — • Olives ! I am a Japanese merchant and I sell F — . 

F — . Fans! I am a San Francisco merchant and I sell G — . 

G — . Grapes ! I am an East India merchant, and I sell S— . 

H— . Shawls ! I am a West India merchant, and I sell C — . 

I—. Coffee ! 

Any mistake, such as making the New England merchant sell 
sugar, or the Chinaman, cod-fish, is to cost a forfeit, whether 
the error was that of the merchant or the guesser. 

Being now ready for a little more fun, let one of the party 
slip out and prepare the saucers or soup plates and tumblers 
for a trick game of 

Magnetism. 

While he is engaged in covering the bottom of one of the 
saucers or plates with a thick coating of black, by holding it 
low down in the flame of a candle, another of the party address- 
es the company, leading the conversation to the subject of ani- 
mal magnetism, and finally announcing himself an expert mag- 
netizer. 

'' I do not often perform in public," he may say, ''but amongst 
friends I do not object to giving a proof of my skill. The only 
point upon which I must insist is perfect gravity and quiet 
amongst the audience. I will now see if I can select a subject 
who is susceptible to the magnetic influences." 

He now passes from one to another, making passes, and 
looking steadily into the eyes of several of the company, feeling 
the pulse of one and another, till finally he selects one individ- 
ual whom he declares to be the very man for the experiment. 

He now clears one end of the room and places two chairs, 



258 



TfHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



face to face, some three feet apart. lu one of these he seats his 
intended victim and asks the hostess if he can have two glasses 
of water, standing in two plates. This produces the blackened 
plate, and a clean one, upon each of them a glass of clear 
water. 

Handing the blackened plate to the subject who is to be mag- 
netized, he takes the clean plate and says, seating himself in 
the vacant chair : 

^' You must fix your eyes steadily upon mine, and make ex- 
actly ;the motions that I do. Mr. C {calling upon one of 

the company) j^\\\ you stand where you can take the plate when 




Fig. 92. 



the numbness that precedes the trance causes it to drop from 
Mr. 'shand? 



THE TWENTT-FIBST EVENING. 259 

He now proceeds to make several motions with his open hand, 
keeping his eyes fixed upon his victim, till he has his undivided 
attention. He then dips his finger in the water, and drawing it 
across the bottom of his plate makes a cross upon his forehead ; 
the subject does the same ; a second pass over the bottom of 
the plate and the face draws a long black streak down the vic- 
tim's nose ; a third smears one cheek ; a fourth the other. 

When the victim resembles a blackamoor the operator 
gravely rises and says the subject has proved that his will is too 
strong to yield to that of another man, and he must try a new 
one. 

But the company having watched the operation, as shown in 
Fig. 92, are not often likely to furnish a second victim. If the 
operator can induce the victim, by some well-turned compli- 
ments upon his nerve and strength of mind, to smile, compla- 
cently, the effect is very funny, but the production of a mirror, 
or leading the blackened man to a pier-glass, will change the 
smirk into a stare of amazement and disgust very ludicrous to 
witness. 

While the company are laughing over the discomfiture of the 
magnetized subject, procure a pack of cards and initiate the 
entire party into the game of 

Wall Street Brokers. 

The company are seated in a circle, and near enough together 
to pass the cards easily from one to another. 

The leader hands a card to the one on his left hand, calling 
its description aloud three times ; the second one passes it to 
the next, also calling its description, and it is passed around 
the circle, each one calling the card three times as he receives 
and passes it. As soon as the leader has passed one card out 
he immediately passes another, calling it as before, and this is 
sent after the first ; a third follows, a fourth, fifth, and one after 
another in rapid succession, every card being rapidly called 



S60 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHI? 

three times as it passes from hand to hand. When the card is 
an ace, instead of describing it, the holder must saj Oh ! Oh ! 
Oh ! If a knave passes, it is also not named, but meets with a 
H'm ! H'm ! H'm ! The players must all be on the watch for 
any one who breaks this rule by naming an ace or knave, when 
he receives it, or giving the wrong syllables ; if caught in the 
act^ a forfeit is the penalty. To facilitate this, one of the com- 
pany should stand inside the circle, and watch the aces and 
knaves as they pass from hand to hand. 

The babel of tongues is wonderful, and is said to exactly re- 
semble the proceedings of a board of Wall street broker's in 
business hours, when there is some financial excitement. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader {passing cards as rapidly as possible, and naming 
each one). {Ace of Spades) Oh! Oh! Oh! Seven of clubs, seven 
of clubs, seven of clubs; deuce of hearts, deuce of hearts, 
deuce of hearts ; {Knave of Diamonds) H'm ! H'm ! H'm ! etc., 
to the end of the pack. 

Second Playee, {receiving the cards and passing them on 
as rapidly as possible, naming each one three times). Oh ! Oh ! 
Oh ! Seven of clubs, seven of clubs, seven of clubs, deuce of 
hearts, etc., to end of pack. 

Third Plater receives, calls and passes the cards to fourth, 
who receives, calls and passes them to fifth, who passes them in 
the same way. 

The confusion of voices becomes indescribable after about ten 
cards are out. If the circle is not large enough for the whole 
pack to go round, the last player must hold the cards as fast as 
he gets them, until he receives the last one, and silence falls 
•upon one after another of the players as fresh cards cease to 
reach them. 

While the cards are out, shuffle them well, and deal them out 
to the company as if for a game of whist, one at a time to 
each person, in regular order, and commence a game of 



THE TWENTT-FIBST EVENINa, 261 

Machine Poetry. 

One of the party, holding up a card, calls out a word— any 
word he may think of. The three players holding the corre- 
sponding cards of the other three suits must each give him a 
rhyme for his word, and he must make a verse of poetry from 
the four single words. 

The next player names another card and a word, and obtain- 
ing, as before, three rhyming words, also makes a verse. ^ 

The more abominable the poetry, the greater the merriment. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leader (holding Five of Spades). Cheese ! 
Holder of the Five of Clubs. Ease ! 
Holder op the Five of Hearts. Sneeze ! 
Holder of the Five of Diamonds. Squeeze ! 

The leader then gives the result of his cogitations — 

I obtained a piece of cheese, 
Twas so strong it made me sneeze, 
But I gave it a good squeeze. 
And then ate it up with ease. 

Second Plater (holding Ace of Hearts). Hat ! 

Holder of the Ace of Clubs. Flat ! 

Holder of the Ace of Diamonds. Eat ! 

Holder of the Ace of Spades. Mat ! 
Second Plater— 

'Twas night, when on the mat, • 
A most outrageous rat, 
Supped upon my Sunday hat, 
"Which made me feel quite flat. 

And so on. The fun is, of course, increased when the players, 
gettmg mto the spirit of the game, make their rhymes as puz- 
zling and incongruous as possible. 

II any lucky player holds four cards of a kind he can throw 
them out without making any verse. If he holds three he can 
distribute thefn amongst the others and throw the verse-mak- 



262 WHAT SMALL WE BO TO-NIGRTf 

ing upon the player on his left, but if he holds but two he must 
supply the last rhyme, as well as the first word for his verse. 

Another form of the same game is to have the leader start 
off with a line of poetry. The player nearest on his left, who 
holds a corresponding card, must supply the second line, to 
rhyme with the first ; the next one on the left, holding another 
corresponding card, gives the third rhyming line, and the holder 
of the fourth similar card finishes the verse. 

EXAMPLE : 

Nine of Hearts — 

As I was coming down a hill, 

Nine oe Clubs— 

I tumbled down like Jack and Jill, 

Nine of Spades — 

And rolled into a little rill, 

Nine oe Diamonds — 

And caused my nose its blood to spiU. 

The worse the poetry, the more the mirth and merriment. 
To conclude the evening, play a game of 

Head, Body, and Legs. 

One player takes an oblong piece of paper, and having divid- 
ed it into three equal parts by folding, he sketches a comic 
head, either with pen or pencil, in the upper space ; he then 
doubles the paper over and hands it to another, who draws a 
hody in the middle compartment, folds the paper over once 
more and passes it to a third, who completes the figure by 
drawing a pair of legs in the lower space. The player who 
draws the head must continue the neck a little way into the 
middle space, and he who sketches the body must just commence 
the legs in the lower compartment ] this arrangement insures 
the -connection of head, body, and legs. Our illustration (Fig. 
93) shows how the paper is to be folded over for drawing the 



THE TWENTY-FIRST EVEIslNG. 



263 



different parts of a figure. Each player should be provided 
with a pen or pencil and a piece of paper. Having drawn a 
head, he should fold his sketch in a proper manner, as in No. 1, 




No. 1 



Fig. 93. 



and pass it to his right-hand neighbor, who continues with the 
body, as in Xo. 2, folds it over and hands it to his neighbor to 
complete the design, as in No^ 3. When opened out it will ap- 
pear as seen in No. 4. In this way a number of sketches can 
be made at once. A knowledge of drawing is not expected ; 
any rude thing will do. As one player does not know what the 
other is drawing, very funny combinat^s are sometimes made : 
a donkey's head, on a man's body,'' with a goose's legsj and 
similar monstrous and funny absurdities. 



264 WMAT mALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



Jw^JMTY-gECOJ^D ^VE]M1]MQ. 

This evening is to be devoted to the exhibition of that deUght 
of our friends John Bull, old and young, a 

Punch-and-Judy Show. 

Any ingenious youth may thus amuse a large party of friends, 
and by a little practice become quite an expert showman. 

The rules we have given for getting up a model stage, and for 
tinseling characters, will, we trust, be fully appreciated by our 
younger readers. 

By following our directions, the amateur showman may, with 
comparatively little trouble, construct some comical figures. 

In carving the heads of the puppets, the ingeouity of the read- 
er will be most severely taxed. Each head must be fashioned 
out of a piece of soft wood, with a sharp penknife, and then 
painted with oil-colors. An old wooden doll will be a capital 
model for the reader to work from, only he must cut much 
deeper, in order to make the features of his puppets sufficiently 
prominent. Punch's nose and chin may be formed of separate 
pieces of wood, and then fastened on to the face with a little 
glue. Our artist has drawn a full-length figure of Punch, and 
the faces of the other characters in the drama — namely : 1. Judy ; 
2. Policeman ; 3. Foreigner ; 4. Ghost ; 5. Doctor ; 6. Clown ; 7. 
Jones ; 8. Hangman. The carver should study these illustrations 
attentively, and endeavor to imitate them. The eyes of the 
Ghost are two black beads, which maybe fixed by pins, or loose- 
ly attached by short pieces of thread, so that they may roll about 
in their saucer-like sockets. The eyes of the other puppets may 



TRE TWENTY-SECOND EVENINa. 



265 



be formed of white beads, fixed by black-headed pins in small 
cavities made to receive them. The hair and beard of the For- 
eigner, and the Clown's three tufts, may be made of any kind of 
fur ; the Hangman's wig, and the Doctor's scanty locks, of worst- 
ed. Each head should be about the size of an ordinary hen's- 
egg, and should have a hole made at the bottom, large enough 
to receive the tip of the showman's finger. 




Fig. 94. 



Punch is the only puppet that exhibits its legs to the audience, 
and therefore the only one requiring lower limbs ; these legs, as 
well as the hands of all the characters, are to be cut out of wood 
and painted. 

The cloth figures of the puppets must be so constructed, that 
the exhibitor can easily slip them over his hand and wrist ; to 
these hollow bodies the heads and hands are to be securely fast- 
ened, with a little glue, or some small tacks. Punch's figure may 
be formed of red merino, or any other gay-colored stuff j the 
''goodly hunch" and prominent stomach must not be forgotten; 
these important appendages may be stuffed with cotton or tow. 
Judy's dress may be made of cotton print; the Pohceman's of blue 
cloth, edged with gold lace; the Foreigner's, of almost any kind 
of stuff; the Doctor's, of black cloth ; and the dresses of Jones 
and the Hangman, of any sober-colored stuffe. The Ghost must 



266 



WJSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 



be enveloped in a long white linen gown ; and the Clown mus^ 
fce arrayed in the true circus style. In constructing the dress- 
es, the reader will have his patience sorely tried, unless he can 
persuade a few young ladies to aid him with their nimble .finr 
gers. 

Motion is given to each of the puppets by the showman's hand, 
the forefinger of which moves the head, while the thumb and 
second finger work the two arms ; the annexed engraving will 
elucidate this operation. 




riG. 95. 

We have not yet alluded to two important characters m the 
drama — ^namely, the Baby and the eccentric dog Toby. Any 
little doll may be dressed in long-clothes to represent the Baby, 
so the reader may be spared the trouble of carving another head. 
The part of Toby is generally filled by a living performer, but 
as we do not suppose the reader to be the owner of a properly- 
trained cur, we recommend him to procure one of those barking 
or squeaking dogs which are sold at the toy-shops ; with such a 
Toby the fun of the piece will be increased rather than dimin- 
ished. 

Punch's stick must be about a foot long, and quite half an 
inch thick ; it must be formed of tough wood, as some rough 
work is performed with it during the progress of the drama. 
The gallows must be of the letter F form, and must have two 



THE TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. SGt 

holes bored through the end of the projecting beam; the cord, 
having been knotted at one end, is to be passed through each 
hole, forming a loop or noose under the top of the gallows. The 
upright post is made to fit in a hole in the shelf. 

Having described the puppets, we will now say a few words 
about the show in which they are to be exhibited. The show 
we recommend is simply a box about three feet square, open in 
front and at bottom ; this is hung upon nails against the wall, 
above the head of the amateur showman, who is hidden from 
view by curtains which reach from the box to the floor. The 
box may be a large dry-goods box, with the lid and one of its 
sides removed. The inside of the box should be hung with 
green-baize, or any other dark-colored stuff. A proscenium cut 
out of pasteboard, and tastefully painted, should be fastened in 
front of the box, so as to conceal the unsightly edges of the wood. 
A shelf of wood about four inches wide should project beyond 
the proscenium, so as to form a little stage upon which Punch 
may drum his legs, lay down his stick, and place the dead 
bodies of his victims ; this shelf may be fixed by screws passing 
through the two sides of the box. 

During the performance the puppets must be kept in an open 
box hanging against the wall, within reach of the showman. 

If the parlor in which the exhibition takes place has a door 
communicating with an adjoining apartment, the plan given in 
Fig. 96 suggests a still simpler means of preparing the show. 

In the doorway, a frame is made to fit ; the shelf is fastened 
at the proper height, and the open space below the shelf and 
down to the ground is filled in with muslin or any old material, 
and covered with wall-paper. The upper part of the open door, 
which is visible to the audience, should be covered with a scene 
representing the front of a house with door and windows. This 
may be drawn on a piece of paper and pinned in its place on 
the door. 

The performer, having prepared everything, should learn the 
drama, and practice the different voices which he intends to 



268 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

give to the different characters. It will probably be some 
time before he can acquire the peculiar aqueak of Punch, which 
is generally sui)posed to be produced by an instrument called 
'' a squeaker," which requires a great deal of practice to render 




effective, and we therefore recommend the performer to trust to 
his own powers of mimicry. With regard to the musical ac- 
companiments, the amateur showman should get some kind sis- 
ter or cousin to sit at the piano, the notes of which are much 
more pleasing than those of the Pandean pipes and drum. The 
original text of the drama is here given, with a few slight alter- 
ations and additions. 



TEE TWENTY- SECOND EVENING. 26£iP 

The Drama of Punch and Judy. 

persons represented. 

Mr. Punch. The Doctor. 

JnuY, Ms wife. The Hangman. 

Master Punch, an infant. Jones, the former owner of TOBY« 

Joey, a clown. Toby Punch's little dog. 

The Policeman. The Ghost. 
The Foreigner. 

{Music. The pianist plays some popular melody. Curtain rises.) 

Punch (&eZo^). Eoot-to-to-to-to-too-o-o-it! Sha'n't belong; 
I'm only putting on my new boots. {Pops tip.) Eoot-to-too-it ! 
(Lively music. Fundi dances, and throws his legs over the 
front of the stage. ) 

Where's my wife, I wonder ? ( Calling below. ) Judy !— ^Judy, 
my darling ! — Judy, my duck o' diamonds ! Oh ! you are dress- 
ing the baby, are you I 

{Enter Judy.) 

Judy. Well, Mr. Punch, what do you want with me ? 

Punch. Why, I want to give you a kiss, to be sure. {Hus- 
band and wife embrace fondly.) Now, let's have a dance. 

{Music. They dance. At the conclusion, Punch hits his 
wife on the head ivith his stick.) 

JuDT. Oh ! you villain ! How dare you strike your own 
wife? 

Punch. Haven't I a right to do what I like with my own? 

Judy {taking stick from him). Then I'll let you know some- 
thing about woman's rights. {Hitting Punch.) Take that ! 

Punch. Oh ! 

Judy {hitting him again). Oh ! 

Punch. Oh ! 

Judy {hitting him once more). Oh ! 

Punch {taking stick from her, and knocking her out of sight). 
Oh ! That was to request her to step down stairs and feed the 
babby. Such a beautiful babby ! I'll go and fetch him. {THs- 



270 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

appears, and pops up again with Ms infant son in his arms. 
Sings). 

" Husti-a-bye, baby, 
Sleep while you can ; 
If you live till you're older, 
You'll grow up a man." 

Oh, you little duck ! There never was such a good child. 

Masteh Punch {cries). Mam-ma-a-a ! . 

Punch {thumping him with stick). Go to sleep, you naughty 
boy! {Resumes his song.) 

" Hush-a-bye, baby — " 

Master Punch (louder). Mam-ma-a-a-a ! 

Punch {hitting harder). Hush-a-bye ! 

Master Punch {yells). Ya-a-a-ah-ah ! 

Punch {hitting him). Be quiet, can't you ? Bless him, he's 
got his father's nose ! {The child seizes Punch hy the nose). 
Murder ! Let go ! There ! go to your mother if you can't be 
good with me ! {Throws Master Punchy out of window, or rather 
over the front of the stage. Sings ; drumming with his legs on 
the stage). 

" She's all my fancy painted her, 
She's lovely, she's divine !" 

{Enter Judy.) 

Judy. Where's the boy ? 

Punch. The boy ? 

Judy. Yes. 

Punch. What ! did not you catch him? 

Judy. Catch him? 

Punch. Yes ; I threw him out of window. I thought you 
might be passing. 

Judy. Oh, my poor child ! Oh, my poor child ! 

Punch. Why, he was as much mine as yours. 

Judy. But you shall pay dearly for it ; I'll tear your eyes 
out! 

Punch. Root-to-to-to-too-it ! {Kills Judy at a blow.) 
{Enter Policeman.) 



THE TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. 271 

POLICEMAIJ" (brandishing his club). Hollo ! hollo ! hollo ! 
Here I am ! 

Puif CH. Hollo ! hollo ! hollo ! And so am I ! ( Whacks Po- 
liceman over the head..) 

Policeman. Do you see my club, sir ? 

PiiN"CH. Do you feel mine, sir ? (Hits him again.) 

Policeman. Sir, I am a Conservator of the Peace, a guardian 
of morals, and the Executor of the Law, and I will not be treat- 
ed to insolence. 

Punch. Oh, you are a Disturber of the Peace, a grinder of 
squirrels, an egg-sucker of the Law, and you won't be treated to 
gin -slings. 

Policeman. No nonsense, Mr. Punch! You have com- 
mitted a barbarous and cruel murder, and you must answer for 
it to the laws of your country. 

Punch. Oh, indeed ! 

Policeman. I am a Policeman. 

Punch. And so am I. 

Policeman. You a Policeman 1 

Punch. Yes. 

Policeman. Where's your authority ? 

Punch. There it is ! (Knocks him down.) 

Policeman (rising). Mr. Punch, you are an ugly, ill-bred 
fellow. 

Punch. And so are you. 

Policeman. Take your nose out of my face, sir. 

Punch. Take your face out of my nose, sir. 

Policeman. Pooh! 

Punch. Pooh ! (Gives Policeman another taste of his stick.) 

Policeman. You have committed an aggravated assault on 
the majesty of the law, and I am under the necessity of taking 
you up. 

Punch. And I am under the necessity of knocking you 
down. (KiUs him with a blow of his stick.) 

Punch (dancing). Root-to-to-to-too-it ! 



272 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

{Enter Foeeigner.) 
Foreigner. Yaw ! nix cum heraus. {Punch aims at and 
misses him. He disappears, and hobs up at the other side.) 
Taw ! nix cum heraus. {Punch tries to hit him, hut again fails.) 
Punch. Why don't you speali English ? 
Foreigner. I can't hit him mit mein tongue. 
Punch. Then I'll hit you with my stick. There ! {Hits the 
unfortunate alien, ivho falls a lifeless corpse.) 

Punch. Koot-to-to-to-too-it ! {Sings a fragment of a popu- 
lar melody, drumming with his heels upon the front of the stage.) 
{Mysterious music. The Ghost rises and places its hands 
upon the hodies of Punch's three victims^ The bodies 
rise slowly and disappear.) 
Punch {sings). 

" Rum ti turn ti iddity um, 
Pop goes " 

Ghost. Boo-o-o-o-oh ! 

Punch. A-a-a-ah! {He throws up Ms hands, and hicks 
wildly.) 

Ghost. Boo-o-o-o-oh ! 

Punch. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! It wasn't me ! 

Ghost {throwing its arms around Punch). Boo-o-o-o-oh* 
{Punch faints. The Ghost sinks to appropriate music.) 

Punch. Oh, dear ! I'm very ill ; fetch a doctor. 
{Enter Doctor.) 

Doctor. Somebody called for a doctor. Why, I declare it 
is my old friend Punch. What's the matter with him, I wonder? 
{Feels the patienVs pulse.) Fifteen— sixteen — eleven — nine- 
teen — six. The man is not dead — almost, quite. Punch, are 
you dead f 

Punch {starting up and hitting his medical adviser). Yes. 

Doctor. There's no believinj^ you -, T think you are alive. 

Punch {hitting him again). No ; I'm dead. 

Doctor. Then I must go and fetch you some physic. {Exit) 

Punch. A pretty doctor, to come without physic ! 



% 

THE TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. ^73 

{Be-enter Doctor, tvith a stick.) 

Doctor. Now, Punch, are you dead ? No reply? {Beating 
him.) Physic ! physic ! physic ! 

Punch {returning to his senses). What sort of physic do you 
call that, Doctor ? 

Doctor. Stick-licorice I stick-licorice ! stick-hcorice ! {Be- 
peats the dose.) 

PuisTCH. Stop a bit ! Give me the bottle in my own hands. 
{Taking cudgel from the Doctor, and thrashing him ivith it.) 
Physic! physic! physic! 

Doctor. Oh ! 

Punch. What ! don't you like your own physic ? {Hitting 
Mm again.) Stick-licorice ! stick-licorice ! stick-licorice ! 

Doctor. For goodness' sake. Punch, pay me my fee, and 
let me go ! 

Punch. What is your fee ? {Lays doivn stick.) 

Doctor. A ten-dollar gold-piece. 

Punch. Give me the change out of a five -cent stamp. 

Doctor. Why, I want ten dollars. 

Punch. Let me feel for my purse, then. {Takes up the 
stick and hits Doctor.) One! two! three! four! Stop! that 
wasn't a good one ! I'll give you another ! Four ! five ! six ! 
seven ! — {Delivers ten blotvs. The Doctor falls lifeless on the 
receipt of the last one.) The bill's settled^ and so is the doctor. 
Eoot-to-to-to-too-it ! {Sings.) 

{Enter Joey, the Cloivn.) 

Joey. Punch! {Disappears.) 

Punch. Who called me? {Looks round, and seeing no one^ 
resumes his song.) 

" I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, 
With vassals and serfs by my si-wi-Tride " 

{Joeg rises, and taking up the dead body of the Doctor, hobs 
its head in Punches face.) 
Joey. Bob ! 
Punch. Whosaid ^^bob?" 



274 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Joey (pushing Doctor into his face again). Bob ! bob 1 bob ! 

Punch. Bob ! bob ! bob ! {Knocks Doctor out of sight, 
and discovers Joey. ) Ah, Joey ! was that you % 

Joey. No, it was I. • 

Punch. Well, don't do it again, because I'm nervous. Come 
and feel how my hand shakes. {Joey approaches. Punch tries 
to hit him, hut he dodges and avoids the blow.) Come a little 
nearer ; I won't hurt you. {Joey again approaches Punch, and 
again avoids the blotu intended for him.) There ! it didn't hurt 
you, did it ? 

Joey. No. 

Punch. Nor that ? {Makes another failure.) 

Joey. No. 

Punch. Nor that ? 

Joey. Not a bit. 

Punch. Then what are you afraid of? Come and shake 
hands. {Joey approaches, but has to duck down as before, to 
avoid a blow which Punch makes at Ms head.) Joey; you're an 
arrant coward. 

Joey. Don't call names. 

Punch. Then fight fair. 

Joey. Come on. 
(Music. Grand combat between Punch and Joey, the for- 
mer using his stick and the latter butting with his head. 
The Clown avoids all Punch's blows by dodging. After 
bobbing up and doivn in every direction, Joey suddenly 
appears behind Punch.) 

Joey. Hollo, Punch! (Disappears.) 

Punch. Where are you, Joey ? 

Joey (again appearing behind Punch). Here I am. (Disap- 
pears again.) 

Punch. I saw him. (Peeps round cautiously and comes 
into collision ivith Joey. Beth start back, frightened. Punch 
lays down his stick and peeps cautiously round the curtains) . Fve 
gofhim now ! 



THE TWENTY-SECOND EVENINa. 275 

Joey {rising beJiind Mm, and seizing stick). And how do 
you like him? {Cudgels Punch.) 

Ptj2s^ch. Murder I fire ! thieves ! Toby, come and help 
your master ! {Tob^ barks below. Exit Joey.) 
{Enter Toby.) 

PiLNCH. Good doggy ! I knew you'd come to help your mas- 
ter. Poor little Toby ! Ain't you fond, of your master? {Toby 
snaps.) Oh, my nose ! Now, be a good dog, and you shall 
have a pail of water and a broomstick for supper. {Toby snaps 
again. ) Be quiet, sir, or I'll knock your brains out ! ( Tobg barks j 
and Punch goes to strike him, but at the same instant Jones, the 
former owner of the dog, rises and receives the blow intended for 
Toby on his head.) 

Jones. What did you do that for ? I shall make you pay 
for my head, sir ! 

Punch. And I shall make you pay for my stick, sir I 

Jones. I haven't broken your stick. 

Punch. And I haven't broken your head. 

Jones. You have, sir ! 

Punch. Then it must have been cracked before. 

Jones. Hollo ! Why, that's my dog Toby. Toby, old fel- 
low, how are you? {Toby barks.) 

Punch. He isn't your dog. 

Jones. Yes, he is ! 

Punch. No, he isn't ! 

Jones. He is, I tell you ! A fortnight ago I lost him. 

Punch. And a fortnight ago I found him. 

Jones. We'll soon see whether the dog belongs to you. You 
shall go up to him and say, " Toby, poor little fellow, how are 
you?" 

Punch. Very good. {Goes up to Toby.) Toby, poor little 
fellow, how are you ? {Toby snaps at Punches nose.) 

Jones. There ! you see ^ 

Punch. What ? 

Jones. Why, that shows the dog's mine. 



276 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Punch. No; it shows he's mine. 

Jones. Then, if he's yours, why does he bite you ? 

Punch. Because he lilies me. 

Jones. Nonsense ! We'll soon settle which of us the dog 
belongs to, Mr. Punch. We'll ftght for him. Now, don't you 
begin till I say '^ Time," {Fundi knocks Jones down.) Mr. 
Punch, that wasn't fair. 

PjjNCH. Why, you said " Time." 

Jones. I didn't. 

Punch. What did you say, then ? 

Jones. I said, ^' Don't you begin till I say ' Time.^" 

Punch {knocking Mm down again). There ! you said it 
again. 

Jones. Toby, assist your master. {Tohy flies at Punch.) 

Punch. It isn't fair; he didn't say ^^Time." 

Jones. At him again, Toby! {Toby larks, and attacks 
Punch.) 

Punch. Murder ! please to call him off ! 

Jones. Yery well. Come along, Toby ! {Exit with Tohy.) 

Punch {calling after them). I wouldn't have him at a gift; 
he's got the distemper ! Root-to-to-to-too-it ! 
{Enter Hangman.) 

Hangman. Mr. Punch, you are my prisoner. 
'Punch. What for ? 

Hangman. For having broken the laws of your country. 

Punch. Why, I never touched them. 

Hangman. At any rate you are to be hanged. 

Punch. But I never was tried and condemned. 

Hangman. Never mind ! We'll try you first and condemn 
you afterwards. 

Punch. Hanged ? Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 

Hangman. Yes ; and I hope it will be a lesson to you. 
{Erects the gallows on the stage.) 

Punch. Oh, my poor wife and sixteen small children ! most 
of them twins, and the oldest only three years of age. 



THE TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. '277 

Hangmat^. Now, Punch, you are ordered for instant exe- 
cution. 

Punch. What's that? 

Hangman. You are to be hanged by the neck till you are 
dead! dead! dead! 

Punch. What ! three or four times over? 

Hangman. No. Place your head in the centre of this noose. 

Punch. Stop a bit ; I haven't made my will. 

Hangman. A very good thought. We can't think of let- 
ting a man die till he has made his will. 

Punch. Can't you ? 

Hangman. Certainly not. 

Punch. Then I won't make mine at alL 

Hangman. That won't do, Punch. Come ; put your head 
in there. 

Punch (putting his head under the noose). There ? 

Hangmain". No ; higher up. 

Fui^CB. {putting his head over). There? 

Hangman. No ; lower down. 

Punch. Well, I never was hanged before, so how can you 
expect me to know where to put my head ? 

Hangman. Oh ! as you were never hanged before, it's but 
right I should show you the way. Now, Mr. Punch, keep your 
eye on me. In the first place, I put my head in the noose — so! 
(Puts his head in the noose.) Well, when Pve got ^/our head in, 
I pull the end of the rope. 

FTmcn {pulling rope). So? 

Hangman. Yes, only much tighter. 

Punch. Very good ; I think I know now. 

Hangman. Then turn round and bid your friends farewell; 
and ril take my head out. 

Punch. Stop a minute. {Pulls the rope tightly, and hangs 
the Hangman.) Oee ! oee! oee ! I understand all about it. 
Root-to-too-it! Here's a man tumbled into a ditch, and hung 
himself up to dry. 



876 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

{The Ghost rises, and taps Punch on the shoulder.) 

Ghost. You're come for. 

Punch. Oh; dear ! oh^ dear ! What do you want ? 

Ghost. To carry you off to the land Bobbetty-shooty, where 
you will be condemned to the punishment of shaving monkeys. 

Punch. Stop ! whom were you to ask for ? 

Ghost. Why, Punch, the man who was to be hanged. 

Punch. I'm not Punch ; there he is ! {Points to Hangman.) 

Ghost. Oh ! I beg your pardon ! Good night ! {Carries off 
Hangman.) 

Vjn^CK {hitting the sinking Ghost). Goodnight! Pleasant 
journey! {Sings.) 

Eoot-to-too-it ! served him right, 
Now all my foes are put to flight ; 
Ladies and gentlemen all, good night, 
To the freaks of Punch and Judy I 

(Curtain falls.) 



TRE TWENTY'THIBD EVENINa. 27& 



Our pleasant gatherings having become an '^ institution," we 
will, without further remark; commence the twenty- third, by 

Guxjid Comes. 

This is a simple game, long known, but is very pleasant for 
passing an hour in pleasant company. The answers must all be 
given in alphabetical order, and must end with '4ng " and de- 
scribe the manner in which Cupid comes. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadee. Cupid comes ! 

Number Oxe. How does he come ? 

Leadee. Ambling. 

Number One. Cupid comes ! 

Number Two. How does he come ? 

Number One. Boating. 

Number Two. Cupid comes — and in reply — Capering. 

Number Three. Cupid comes — Dancing. 

Number Four. Cupid comes — Eating. 

Number Five. Cupid comes — Flying. 

Number Six. Cupid comes— Giggling. 

Number Seven. Cupid comes— Hurraing. 

Number Eight {to end). Cupid comes — Ironing — Jump- 
ing— Kicking— Laughing— Moping— Nodding— Ogling— Pranc- 
ing— Quarreling— Eouting—Sulking— Talking— Upsetting — 
Vaunting — Walking — Yelling. 

X and Z are generally omitted in these games. 

When the 'Mng" has been carried through the alphabet alter 
the termination to *My " and make Cupidcome—Akily— Brave- 



380 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

\j — Cautiously — Doubtfully — Eagerly — Foolishly — Gayly — . 

and so on, until the alphabet has been exhausted a second time. 

Sometimes the leader starts a letter, which must i^ass round 

the circle to describe Cupid's coming, before another is started. 

EXAMPLE : 

Leadee. Cupid comes — Carroling, or Cheerfully. 
Number Oi^e. Cupid comes — Courting, or Charmingly. 
Number Two. Cupid comes — Crowing, or Coldly. 
Number Three. Cupid comes — Canting, or Capriciously. 
When the fickle god has come under all conditions the in- 
genuity of the party can fi^nd, try to interest the company in 

Mz Buz. 

This is an old and well-known game, which appears very sim- 
ple, yet will invariably produce a goodly pile of forfeits, while 
the end is rarely attained. 

Seated in a circle, the players begin to count, each following 
the one next him with a number, until they have counted up to 
one hundred. 

But two numbers and their combinations, by addition or 
multiphcation, must not be named, the five, which is called Fiz, 
or the seven, which is called Buz. Any number that contains 
five or seven, or that is a multiple of five or seven, must be men- 
tioned as Fiz or Buz respectively, or the player pays a forfeit. 

It is astonishing how seldom the hundred is reached. 

Whenever any player says five or seven, he or she must pay 
a forfeit, and is out of the game, or silent during its continu- 
ance. If either of the forbidden words is used the next player 
must start again at ''one." 

example : 

Leader. One ! 

Players, in regular rotation : Two! Three! Four! Ftz! 
Six! Bus! Eight! Nine! Fiz [Ten being twice Jive) I 
Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Buz {Fourteen being twice 
sevens I Fiz {Fifteen being three times Jive) I Sixteen! Buz 



THE TWENTY-THIRD EVENINa. 



281 



(Seventeen being ten and seven) ! Eighteen ! Nineteen ! Fiz 
{Twenty heing four times five) \ Bus {Twenty -one teing three 
times seven) \ 2L\i^ so on. Fifty-seven is ^^-&«<^; seventy-five, 
huz-fis ; twenty-five, or five times five, is fis-fis ; and forty-nine, 
or seven times seven, is bus- bits. 

The game may be simplified for children or lazy folks, by 
using only one substitute for the number, as fis only for five, or 
bus only for seven, with their combinations. 

After all this buzzing and fizzing the company will be glad 
of a quiet spell, to witness the heartrending embarrassment of 

The Egyptian Miuninies. 

This most amusing trick game never fails to elicit hearty 
merriment, and is very easily arranged. Select from the com- 




FlG. 97. 



pany five young gentlemen who have never seen the game, and 
ask them if they will allow themselves to be dressed for Egyp- 
tian Mummies with all the modern improvements. 



282 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Lead them into an adjoining room, with folding-doors be- 
tween, or behind a curtain, where they must be seated to face 
the company when the doors are opened or the curtain raised. 

It is best to have five ladies who know the trick to dress the 
mummies, as it is too long a task for one. 

When the gentlemen are seated, carefully blindfold each one, 
and request him to double up his right fist. Upon the back of 
the fist mark the eyes, nose and mouth of a face, with a burnt 
match or a little water-color. Tie around this a doll's cap, or a 
lace frill or muslin ruffle, and fasten around the wrist a full 
white apron or skirt. Bend the left arm to lie across the waist, 
and put the right fist into the inner bend of the elbow, drawing 
the apron down over the right arm, as shown in Fig. 97. 




Open now the doors or the curtain, and each of the blind- 
folded gentlemen will appear to be tenderly nursing a young 
baby. 

A new burst of merriment will be occasioned as the mum- 
mies have their blindfolds removed, one after the other, and see 
what is Jying in their arms. Our artist has evidently ''been 



THE TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. 283 

there," as he has made our mummies' hair in Fig. 98 fairly 
stand on end with consternation and surprise. 

To conclude the evening's performance a game for which the 
preparations are very simple may be given, entitled 

Shado^^ Puzzles. 

The players are divided into two parties, one for performers, 
the others to guess. At one end of the room suspend a large 
white sheet. One of the party of guessers sits upon a low stool 
facing the sheet, while all the lights are turned out excepting 
one. The shadow-seeker must sit as low as possible, so as to 
interfere but little with the other shadows. 

The light should now be placed upon a table, about seven 
feet behind the shadow-seeker. The players then pass between 
the light and the guesser, throwing their shadows upon the 
sheet, and he must guess who is passing from the shadow, un- 
til he guesses correctly, when he joins the shadow- troop, and 
another of the guessers takes his place. 

The shadow-makers are allowed to disguise themselves in 
every possible way; raising their arms, covering their faces with 
shawls, deforming their figures with pillows for hunchbacks, 
letting long hair fall over the face, making an aquiline nose 
with a crooked finger. Animals may be counterfeited ; an im- 
mense bat may be made by throwing a large sheet over the 
extended arms and passing sideways in front of the lamp, with 
the face toward the sheet, making a gentle motion with her 
counterfeit wings, the extended arms. 

Yery funny disguises may be made by those who are expert 
at making the hand-shadows already given. A shawl should 
drape the figure and be pinned on the head, covering the face ; 
the hands then placed under the shawl, against the profile, 
make the old man's face, or some animal's head, in shadow. 

Tall figures should crouch to appear short, and short ones 
p?ay wear high head-gear to appear tall; the slender may wear 



284 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 



pillows, shawls, cloaks, and any amount of stuffing, to appear 
stout. Gentlemen may array themselves in skirts, cloaks and 
bonnets, and ladies may wear tall hats, cloaks, and their long 
hair pulled forward under the chin for a fine heard. 




Tig. 99. 

Animals are the best disguises, and very funny heads may be 
easily improvised, while the figure, on all fours, is covered en- 
tirely with a shawl. 

This game may be varied so as to include all the players from 
the commencement, one of the company being selected to be 
first guesser, retaining his office until he guesses correctly. He 
is then succeeded by the party guessed, and can join the other 
players. 

When the passing shadows have lost their attractions, the 
magician of the evening may put the rest of the company on the 
qui vive by proposing a puzzle, which we will call 

The Captive Key Released. 

Obtain a piece of twine about a yard long ; tie the ends to- 
gether, so as to form a loop, and pass this loop through the 



TRE TWENIT-TRIBD EVENING. 



285 



handle of a key. Request some one to hold up both his hands, 
and pass the ends of the loop over his thumbs. The key is now 
secured on the string, and it does not seem possible to regain 
possession of it without removing one or other of the loops from 
the thumbs of the person holding the string. When the com- 
pany have all had an opportunity of trying their skill and inge- 
nuity, proceed to show that the release of the key is not only 




Fig. 100. 



possible but easy./ Place the forefinger of your left hand 
against the loop,~^alf way between the key and the holder's 
thumb which secures the left-hand end of the loop. Next, with 
the forefinger and thumb of your right hand, take hold of the 




upper string, between your left forefinger and the key. Matters 
now stand exactly as seen in Fig. 100. Kow draw the string, 



286 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



with the right hand, over your left forefinger and around the 
holder^s thumb from right to left, so that the part of the string 
held by your left forefinger will pass heliind the holder's thumb, / 
as shown in Fig. 101. This completes the first movement; and. 
if you now withdrew your left forefinger, not only the key but 
the entire loop would fall off the holder's right thumb., To pre- 
vent such a catastrophe, which would not fulfill the cbnditions 
of the trick, you must proceed to execute the second movement. 




Tig. 102. 



Slide the key close up to the left forefinger; place the left thumb 
against the lower string, beyond the key, so that the key now 
hangs between the forefinger and thumb of your left hand; take 




Fig. 103. 



hold of the lower string with your right hand, beyond and to the 
right of your left thumb; draw it toward the left, as in Fig. 102, 



THE TWENTY-THIBD EVENING. 287 

and carry the loop, thus formed, around the holder's thumb, 
precisely as you did with the loop in the first movement. '"Then 
request the holder to join the forefinger and thumb of each 
baud, in order to preclude the possibility of any of the loops 
from passing over his thumbs. The position of the string, key, 
and your left hand, is shown in Fig. 103, aijjcl the release of the 
key will follow the withdrawal of your left hand. 

These movements should be studied and practiced until they 
can be done with rapidity and precision, as string tricks lose 
much of their effect when unskillfully performed. In fact, no 
trick which involves any degree of manual dexterity should be 
attempted in public, unless the performer is quite certain of 
carrying it out neatly and without the shglitest hesitation. 
Thorough practice gives to the most rapid movements of the 
hand an appearance of deliberation and neatness which adds 
greatly to the success of the trick, making what is really in- 
tricate and complicated seem simple and easy. All manipula- 
tions require sufficient rapidity of action to j)revent a close 
observer from following them step by step, and depriving the 
performer of the credit* and applause due to a well-executed 
performance. 



288 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 



7wf:]MTY'F0URTH J)vf:NI]N(^. 
Private Theatricals. 

One of the most agreeable methods of passing social evenings 
is the parlor theatre, or even on a more extended scale, amateur 
or private theatricals. They may be made to serve the pleas- 
ure of a large or a small gathering of guests, and their expense 
can be graduated to suit slender purses or serve as an excuse 
for great outlay and display. 

People, however, in very moderate circumstances can so ar- 
range them as to derive as thorough enjoyment as those whose 
wealth allows unlimited expenditure. 

A little dexterity and the exercise of some taste will render 
the aid of a professional costumer entirely unnecessary, and the 
stage and scenery may be quite within the reach of home ingenu- 
ity. Of course, beyond this there is ample room and verge enough 
for the most elaborate scenic display. Some city houses have 
attached to them miniature theatres completely fitted up, where 
plays are performed, and even entire operas sung with a perfec- 
tion of mounting and a finish of execution not always seen on 
the professional stage. But these are for the epicures of the pas- 
time. The great majority of its votaries must be content with 
such simple accessories as ordinary home resources can supply. 

But, even with the slenderest equipment, parlor theatricals 
are found to be_ the source of much substantial enjoyment. 
First, for the actors there is the continuous fun of the rehearsals, 
culminating at least in the tremulous delight of the public debut. 
For the audience, too, there is a charm in the representation, 
however crude, which no professional performance could impart. 
The mutual alacrity to please and to be pleased creates a kindly 



THE TWENTY-FOUBTK EVENING. 289 

current of sympathy between stage and audience, which exag- 
gerates every merit and disguises every fault. The actors are 
not half so anxious to succeed as their hearers are to have them. 
The connoisseur and the critic forget here their frowns and 
their prejudices, and are wilUng to see in each young comedian 
a Garrick or a Peg Woffington at the very least. But, indeed, 
with many of our amateur performances there needs no such 
stretch of indulgence, and plays acted in private parlors often 
reveal an unexpected amount of histrionic ability. 

For the use of those of our readers who have had no experi- 
ence in this delightful recreation we will give such plain direc- 
tions as will enable them to construct a home theatre. 

Stage, Prosceniuin, and Auditorium. 

The selection of the place of performance must be governed 
by local circumstances. For a small theatre, two parlors or 
drawing-rooms, connected by folding-doors, answer capitally, 
The back room being, in most cases, smaller than the front one, 
can be converted into a stage, with space behind for the chang- 
ing of scenes and other stage business ; while the doors, when 
thrown back, leave an opening which forms a very convenient 
proscenium. 

- When the stage and auditorium are in one large room, a di- 
vision can be formed by hanging drapery from the ceihng, which 
would shut off the portion allotted to the actors from that occu- 
pied by the spectators, leaving only an opening for the pros- 
cenium and stage This may be done by means of a few yards 
of dark calico or woolen material. 

In the use of the two connecting rooms, the advantages are 
obvious, as not only is the necessity for draperf<ifepensed with, 
but the room apportioned to the actors having a door of its own, 
the performers have free ingress and egress, without the cogni- 
zance of the audience. 

Where there is only one room a shght partition should be 
constructed from the stage to the door ; a curtain on a rod, or a 



290 



WHAT SHALL WH DO TO-NIGHT f 



temporary stage would do, belaind which the performers could 
pass to and fro. 

The following diagrams show the arrangement of the stage 
and auditorium (Fig. 104), and the proscenium (Fig. 105), and 
all the exits and entrances that are required for amateur per- 
formances in a parlor. 



BEH IN D. 

C. D. 

I 1 



Wings. 
R. D. Wings. 



STAGE. 



FOOT-LIGHTS. 



Wings. 

Wings. |_ ^ 



ORCHESTRA. 



> 
C 
d 

H 
O 



ORCHESTRA. 



Fig. 104. 
H. means Right ; L., Left ; K. D., Right Door, L. D., Left Door ; C, D., Centre Door. 



TRE TWENTY-FOUETS EVENING. 



291 



The actor is supposed to be on the stage, facing the audience. 
If possible, it is as well to have the stage raised a foot or two 




Tig. 105. 
above the level of the auditorium, and to slope it slightly for- 
ward, as it rather dwarfs the performers if they are not above 
the eyes of the spectators. Still, this is not imperative, and is 
difficult to arrange in a parlor. 

Lighting the Theatre. 

In houses where there are gas-lights this part of the arrange- 
ment is much simphfled. A few feet of iron pipe, with holes 



392 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

pierced at intervals, and furnished witli small burners, which 
can be had at a trifling cost, laid along in front of the stage, and 
connected with the gas-pipes by a piece of India-rubber tubing, 
will form the foot-lights. These should always be protected 
with a wire screen, to prevent the danger of the dresses catching 
fire. In front of this there should be placed a long narrow 
board, or slip of tin, painted black, to serve as a shade, while a 
burner or two at each wing and above the centre of the stage 
will light all perfectly. Should gas be unattainable, candles 
may be substituted. 

One of the great advantages of gas is the ease with which a 
stage can be dimly or brightly lighted at a moment's notice. 

Care should be taken to keep the light in the auditorium 
subdued, so as to give greater brilliancy to that on the stage. 

The Curtain and Drop. 

The curtain may be either of green baize or calico, but should 
be sufficiently heavy to hide all movement upon the stage, when 
it is down. It should be constructed upon the same principle 
as that of an ordinary window-shade, raised or lowered by 
means of a simple cord and pulley. But, as the roller on which 
it acts must be longer than that used for a window, it is as well 
to have double cords, one at each end, worked simultaneously, so 
that the curtain may rise and fall evenly. It should be raised 
and lowered very slowly, on the ringing of a bell. 

The raising and lowering of the drop is managed precisely 
on the same principle as that of the curtain. The drop is real- 
ly quite superfluous for amateur theatricals, as the curtain will 
answer for all divisions of acts -, but if a drop-curtain be used, 
it should be ornamented with a showy picture, a landscape or 
allegorical subject. The manner of painting and preparing this 
will be given under the head of ^^ Scenery and Scene Painting," 
page 293. If a drop is used, allow about eight inches of room 
between it and the curtain, to prevent accidental collision. 



THE TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 298 

Scenery and Scene Painting. 

As stage machinery, except under very unusual circumstances, 
would be unattainable and unmanageable in a domestic theatre, 
the plan adopted in many of the smaller theatres of using drop 
scenes, instead of flats, is the most available for amateur the- 
atricals. These occupy but little space, when not in use, as they 
can be rolled up and put away, and when in use are easily worked. 
They can be used to most advantage in skies and backgrounds. 
Drop-scenes are worked in the same manner as the curtain. 
For side-scenes, that is to say, those that project from the wings 
at each side of the stage, a very simple mode of construction 
will suffice. These scenes need not project more than a couple 
of feet beyond the wings. They can be made in the following 
manner : 

An oblong frame is made by joining four pieges of lath, and 
fastening them at the corners with tacks. On this frame either 
stout paper or common calico may be stretched. If the former 
is used, the best adapted for the purpose is in rolls like wall- 
paper, as it can be cut to any length. It must be very stout. 
This, being cut an inch larger than the frame in every way, 
is laid upon the table and well dampened with a sponge squeezed 
out of cold water, and while still damp is placed on the 
frame, when the edges are turned over and covered with strong 
paste to about the depth of two inches ; they are then turned 
back again over the frame, and carefully pasted on to it. The 
paper will while damp appear loose, but when dry will become 
perfectly tight and flat. 

The advantage of having side-scenes constructed in this man- 
ner is, that, being light, they are readily lifted in and out of 
their places. 

As some objects, such as a tree, part of a cottage, flower-beds, 
etc., would require to be cut out to their proper shapes, the 
best way to manage it will be to draw the outline with white 
chalk on a large sheet of mill-board, and then, before painting 



S94 WMAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

it, cut it round with the point of the blade of a strong pocket 
knife. 

Should calico be preferred, it will be only necessary to fasten 
it with tacks to the frame. It should be drawn as tight as pos- 
sible, so as to lie without a wrinkle. This is best effected by 
pulling the calico with a pincers, and while it is still in the grip 
of that instrument securing it with a tack. 

The calico for the drop-scenes had best be prepared and 
painted before it is fastened on to the roller. 

Paper will not require any preparation before being painted 
on, and calico only requires a couple of primings or washing 
over of whiting mixed with thin size. 

Having prepared the drops and side-scenes, as far as the me- 
chanical part is concerned, the next operation will be to pro- 
ceed to paint them. 

In this department the artist will be at no loss for an ample 
choice of subjects, as he will find in the numerous illustrated 
periodicals and books ample material on which to exercise his 
skill. Landscape, marine, interiors of every variety, will be 
ready to his hand. These he can enlarge to any size by the 
following simple process : 

Having chosen a subject, divide it into an arbitrary number 
of squares, both horizontally and perpendicularly, and number 
each square both ways. That done, square out on a sheet of 
brown paper cut to the required size the same number of 
squares, numbered in the same way as those on the pattern to 
be copied. Then draw within each square as much of the sub- 
ject as it encloses. The diagrams given in Fig. 106 will assist 
in making the instructions more easily comprehended. 

We shall now explain what is to be done with this outline, 
when finished. 

The surface to be covered having been prepared, place the 
enclosed outline on brown paper, and with soft chalk, scraped 
fine, cover the back of it by means of a piece of woolen rag. 
The chalk may be either black or red. Then fasten it down at 



THE TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 



295 



the top corners with tacks, and having done so, securely, go 
carefully over the drawing with a hard pencil or an ivory -point, 
until the whole has left a solid tracing on the scene to which it 
is to be transferred. The brown paper may then be removed. 



1 i 


! S 


4-56782 




M 




BK^^iW 


fr 




M 


S^'miyife 


c^ 


S=S 


a 


1^^ 




Fig. 106. 

It may now be gone over with black chalk, so as to correct 
any thing that may be imperfect, as well as to render the outline 
less liable to be obliterated in the course of painting. 

The colors used for scene-painting should be mixed in large 
saucers, or, where a large surface is to be covered, in large bowls. 
Thin size is the vehicle with which they are worked. The size, 
however, must be very weak, or it will coagulate when cold. 
Every color must also contain a little whiting to render it opaque, 
scenes being always painted in what is technically called body- 



296 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

color. In the very dark finishing-touches only should the 
whiting be omitted. 

iThese colors should be laid on with hog-hair brushes, such 
as are used in oil-painting. The middle, or half tints, are first 
laid on, and over them are worked the different degrees of light 
and depth. 

It should be remembered that the cheapest and commonest 
colors will answer for scene-painting, just as well as the most 
expensive. . They can be procured at any house-painter's or 
wholesale druggist's, in powder or the lump, but will require to 
be ground before being mixed. This is done with water, upon a 
slab, a little thin size being added when ready for use. 

The following are the colors most useful to the amateur 
scene-painter : Whiting, Yellow Ochre, Chrome Yellow, Orange 
Chrome, Orange Lead, Venetian Eed, Rose Pink, Wet Blue, 
French Ultramarine, Brunswick Green, Burnt Umber, Lamp- 
black. 

To this list of colors may be added tin-foil of various colors, 
and colored papers. 

Any number of shades may be made from the colors men- 
tioned, by judicious toning and mixing. It must be remem- 
bered that the colors become lighter as they dry in, but a 
little experience will soon teach the margin to be allowed for 
this. 

For SKIES, the azure or unclouded portion is laid in with 
wet blue, mixed with white ; if it is terminated below by a hori- 
zon, the latter may, if a mild one, be made of yellow ochre and 
white ; if a warm one, chrome yellow is a,dded. When the sky 
and horizon are laid in, which must be done rapidly, they are 
blended into each other "while damp. White clouds on the 
azure sky should be treated in the same manner, or they will 
look hard. Dark clouds are made with blue, Venetian red, 
and rose pink, with a little yellow ochre added. In a brilliant 
sunset the clouds may be of a sharp purple, and intermixed 
with streaks of orange-lead on a warm yellow. 



THE TWENTY-FOUBTR EVENING. 297 

FoEEGEOTTNT) TEEES should have the middle tints laid in with 
Brunswick green ; the lights are then put in their several de- 
grees, by adding chrome yellow to the green until the highest 
lights are reached, when chrome yellow alone may be used. 
The trunk and branches may be put in with burnt umber, and 
the lights touched in with the same mixed with white, and the 
dark parts with burnt umber and black. A little brightening 
up in the shades may be given by a warm color composed of 
lamp-black, Venetian red, and rose pink. In touching in the 
foliage, care must be taken not to black it in too solid, as the 
light should appear to play through it. 

DiSTAXT TPvEES, EiELDS, ctc, should havc whitc added to 
the Brunswick green for middle tints; the same with the chrome 
yellow in the higher parts. In distant objects there must be 
no dark or positive color, lest they should come too much for- 
ward. 

SLOPrN"G ba:n:b:s may be treated, as regards color, in the same 
manner as trees. 

Mountahsts are generally painted purple, interspersed with 
green. 

KrvEES Ai^D LAKES may be treated with the same colors as 
skies, but the lights should be sharper and more positive. 

Gaedek"S, paeteeees, etc., may be painted as fancy dic- 
tates. The same may be said of interiors. 

Dutch metal is a material which, if used sparingly, gives 
great brilliancy to interiors. It should not be laid on in solid 
masses, but lightly touched on the prominent parts of the mold- 
ings of walls, the ornamental portions of pillars, picture- 
frames, etc. 

The manner of applying it is as follows : Paint in with gold 
size the touches intended to represent gold ; and when they 
are nearly dry, press a leaf of Dutch metal firmly on to them, 
taking care that it lies quite smooth. When dry, with an old 
eilk handkerchief brush off the superfluous metal, and the 
touches will come out as intended. 



S98 WHAT SHALL WE DO T0-NIGHT7 

Costume. 

Costume is the observance of propriety in regard to the per- 
son or thing represented, so that the scene of action, the habits, 
arms, proportions, etc., are properly imitated. The peculiari- 
ties of form, physiognomy, complexion, dress, ornaments, etc.,' 
should be all conformable to the period and country in which 
the scene is laid. The rules of costume would be violated by 
the introduction of one or more figures arrayed in the scanty 
raiment of the Hindoos into a scene in Siberia ; by the repre- 
sentation of American Indians in turbans and top-boots ; or by 
Romans dressed in tail-coats and peg-tops, serving cannon at 
the siege of Carthage ; or by a Chinaman in a scarlet hunting- 
cap sitting on the back of a horse, eating veal and ham pie by 
the aid of chop-sticks. 

To produce a showy effect at a small expense can be readily 
managed by persons of a suggestive mind and quick invention. 
Cast-aside garments, of silk or velvet, can, by the aid of span- 
gles, fringe, and bugles, be made to look really well by a stage- 
light. Discarded furs, too, come in with great effect. Armor 
can be constructed of thin pasteboard, covered with tin-foil, and 
may in some parts be studded with Dutch metal. Helmets and 
crowns can be made of the same materials ; and for ladies and 
Oriental grandees, strings of cheap beads and mock pearls will 
look quite gorgeous. Glazed calico can be brought to bear 
very successfully as an imitation of satin. We have seen long 
hair remarkably well represented by skeins of thread, and 
beards by tufts of tow. For a gray beard the tow does au nat- 
urel, and for any other color it can be dyed. Many other con- 
trivances will suggest themselves to the mind of the young ama- 
teur, aided, as he will be, by a knowledge of his own resources. 

Properties and Accessories 

would include a vast number of articles used on the stage, and 
are independent of either scenery or costume. Under this 



THE TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 299 

head might be included arms, such as swords, pistols, guns, 
and spears, banners and standards, agricultural and garden- 
ing implements, furniture and domestic utensils, from the 
imperial throne of the palace to the churn and grindstone 
of the cottage ; and, in fact, too many things to render an 
account of. 

Most of these articles can be made, at little cost, to look very 
well. Swords and spears may be made of wood covered with 
tin-foil, and shields can be made very effectively of mill-board, 
and either covered with tin-foil and studded with bosses of 
Dutch metal, or highly elaborated with coats of arms or em- 
blematic devices. 

Straight smooth broom -handles may be bought by the dozen 
very cheap, and can, by means of a little coloring and ornament- 
al work, be made into very ornamental spear-shafts, and sup- 
ports for banners and canopies. 

Banners are prepared in the same manner as drop-scenes, 
and should be richly emblazoned. Gold fringe should be used 
for edging them ; a variety of plain and embossed gold papers 
can be obtained at any stationer's. 

Domestic and garden utensils, kitchenware and general fur- 
niture can usually be supplied in the house. Thrones, foot- 
stools, and many other grand additions to stage-scenery should 
have gold-fringed drapery thrown over them. 

Stage Effects. 

Stage effects may be made very telling, and yet be pro- 
duced by very simple means. A terrific lightning-storm is to 
be produced. To do so, the lights are to be lowered, and there 
is heard a pattering of rain. The effect of rain is imitated by 
having brown paper stretched tightly on a frame ; it must be as 
tight as a drum. This is obtained by wetting before stretch- 
ing. It is placed at the back of the stage, out of sight, and 
against it is thrown judiciously, but sharply, some hard peas. 
It is as well to have some in both hands, so as to keep up the 



300 



WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



shower continuously. This seems easy, but a deal of artistic 
skill may be shown in producing a good imitation. 

Then we have a flash of lightning -, remember that the light- 
ning comes before the thunder. A little gunpowder— very lit- 
tle—mixed with sulphur; so as to give it a blue tinge, may be 
carried on a small shovel ; a pinch of this thrown through the 
flame of a candle will give a flash. The flash will be followed 
immediately by the thunder ; to give this, nothing is required 
but a long piece of tin, which, if shaken pretty hard, will give 
the effect. 




Fig. 107. 

Now the wind rises; this must be gradual. A long narrow 
piece of tin this time, whisked like a harlequin's sword; then 
as the wind increases a natural effect is given by blowing softly 
through a penny whistle. Thus the storm is complete ; but 
the figures on the stage must act in accordance with it. Should 
it come into the scene that a ship at sea is firing signal-guns of 
distress, a tap on a large drum will exactly produce the required 
sound* 



THE TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 301 

The effect of a wanderer struggling in the storm is very good, 
and may be produced by means of very fine cords attached to 
the dress and jerked by an invisible performer behind the scene, 
as shown in Fig. 107. 

Supposing a calm a.-^j> beatjtieul xight is the effect desired. 
This is produced by having a clear and cloudless sky painted on a 
drop-scene at the back of the stage, and also on the short 
sky-drop suspended in front. The short drop may be left as 
it is, but the large one at the back must have either a round 
hole or a crescent cut in it to represent the moon, and also a 
number of small ones to indicate the stars. Behind these 
should be pasted oiled tissue-paper, because if left open they 
will look simply like holes. To show them up, the space be- 
hind the stage should be well lighted up, and the stage itself 
kept in a subdued light. A few objects cut out in mill-board, 
and having a strong moonlight effect painted on them, stud- 
ded here and there, will heighten the illusion. Do not, how- 
ever, fall into the error of placing them in such a position 
that the bright lights will come at the wrong side. 

A coNTLAGRATiOiSr is represented by having the windows 
of a scene of a house or houses pierced, and lights flashed 
behind them, while lurid fire is burned on an iron shovel 
at the wings, illuminating the scene at intervals ; these two 
— the lights behind and the colored fire at the wings — 
will be sufficient of the fiery element. Then, behind the 
scene, boards should be knocked about to give the idea of 
falling timbers. Figures crowding on the stage, shouting and 
calling, will heighten the effect. If a piece of hose is conven- 
ient, one end of it can be drawn on the stage. Colored fire 
can be had from the firework-makers (see page 184). 

A HAY-riELD makes a pretty scene, and one that is easily 
represented. A few piles of clothes, or any thing that will re- 
semble small hay-cocks, can be placed at intervals on the stage. 
These may then be covered with yellow muslin, and a little hay 
scattered over them and the stage. 



302 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NLGHT? 

To give the effect of a sea it is only necessary to spread a 
piece of sea-green gauze or thin muslin over the stage; this 
is tossed and agitated by persons at the wings introducing long 
poles underneath and imitating the movements of the waves. 

Sisrow is imitated by very tiny atoms of white paper, scattered 
from above upon the stage. 

The Stage-Manager. 

The STAGE -M Aif AG EK Stands in the same relation to the actors 
that the drill-sergeant does to a company of soldiers, and unless 
he exacts implicit obedience a successful result is simply im- 
possible. Being elected by the performers, on account of his 
fitness for the position, his will must be law, and no disputes 
must be permitted. His duties are as follows : 

When a piece is chosen for representation he reads the play 
to the assembled company, giving due expression to the several 
parts and characters, and drawing attention to such places as 
he desires especially emphasized. 

Each performer then receives his part, and a rehearsal is 
called for a specified time. When this time arrives, the actors 
recite their parts and are corrected by the manager as to either 
the reading or the action, if it should appear to him that such 
a course would be required. He afterwards puts his company 
through further rehearsals, and winds up with a dress-rehearsal, 
when he ascertain" that every one is perfect; and here, to a cer- 
tain extent, his duties terminate. 

The Prompter. 

The duties of the prompter are simple enough ; he has only 
to remain at the right wing, book in hand, and carefully follow 
the actors as they go through their parts. Should he observe 
any hesitation on the part of any of them he in a low voice 
prompts them ; but he must be careful not to speak in a manner 
that will be heard in the front of the house. 



THE TWENTY-FOUBTH EVENINa. 303 

The Orchestra. 

The OECHESTEA may consist of as many or as few instruments 
as the strength of the company will be enabled to command. 
A pianoforte, or even a concertina, will, in fact, be sufficient for 
a domestic performance. As it might interfere with the view 
of the stage if the musicians were seated in front of the foot- 
lights, the best arrangement is to have them at one or both sides 
of the proscenium, on the side of the auditorium. 

Should the performance take place in a room, such as a lec- 
ture-hall or school-room, where there is a raised platform, the 
musicians can be placed in the usual manner. On receiving a 
secret sign from one of the actors, who may require extra 
prompting, the orchestra will strike up a voluntary, or what in 
theatrical language is called a hurry, so that there may not be 
a break m the performance. 

The Performers. 

A thorough appreciation of the part to be enacted, and of 
its connection with the performance as a whole, on the part of 
each performer, is the first essential requisite for success. The 
representative of a minor character must not, through a feeling 
of vanity, obtrude himself on the audience more than is war- 
ranted by the part he is performing. Care in committing the 
part to memory is also of the first importance ; it is a duty 
incumbent upon every actor, from the hero to the servant who 
delivers a message of five words. A mute appeal to the prompt- 
er for assistance, if made too frequently, will soon be unfavora- 
bly noticed by the audience. A performer should never leave 
his post while waiting his turn upon the stage ; great confusion 
arises if the stage has to wait while the house is searched for a 
missing performer. We would recommend all actors to consult 
their Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act 3d; Scene 2d, for the most per- 
fect hints to actors ever given. 



304 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NiaHTf 

A theatre arraBged as described will allow vast scope in the se- 
lection of playS; but where there is only the drawing-room we 
would suggest the selection of such plays as require only the usual 
furniture of a drawing-room, and the costume of modern time. 

For amateur representation it is a capital plan to adapt some 
striking scene from a popular novel, of which the following is a 
specimen, adapted from Dickens' ^'Pickwick Papers."* 

Sam Weller Visits his Mother-in-la^v^r. 

COSTUMES AND CHARACTERS. 

Me. Weller (/S'cfm'5/«^7ier) — A coach-driver, and a '^wictim 
o' connubiality f stout ; double chin ; red face, and a still 
redder nose; hair short and thick; blue or red neckerchief 
with white spots ; long waistcoat, with broad pink stripe ; 
drab '^ box " over-coat, with very large bone or pearl but- 
tons ; broad-brimmed low-crowned hat ; corduroy knee- 
breeches ; painted top-boots (or with light brown paper 
pasted around the tops of a pair of Wellingtons) ; copper 
watch-cbain with seal and key. 

Sam Weller {Mr. PicUvicWs valet) — Gray coat, P. C. button; 
black hat with cockade; pink striped waistcoat; light 
breeches and gaiters ; white neckcloth ; clean-shaved face 
and short hair. If no gray cutaway coat, then the waistcoat 
with sleeves — as valet's undress. 

Mrs. Weller {Sam's mother-in-law) — Stout lady of comforta- 
ble appearance. Plaid dress, white apron, black velvet 
cuffs, neck -handkerchief and cap, with black velvet band 
and bow across forehead. 

'8TiGrGi^8. {hypocritical parson) — Stiff-backed, red nosed; hair 
as if bitten off by rats; continual habit of uplifting his eyes 
and drawing long face. Threadbare black suit; very 

*Tliia excellent adaptation is taken from "Dialogues from Dickens," edited by 
W. Eliot Fette, Esq., and published by Messrs. Lee & Shepard, of Boston, Mass. 



TRE TWENTT-FOUBTH EVENINa, 305 

short trousers; black cotton socks; buniony shoes, black- 
leaded ; limp white neckcloth of very bad color ; old worn 
black gloves, out at fingers, and much too large ; seedy bat, 
wetted, and rubbed up with coat-sleeve; faded green um- 
brella of an old-fashioned pattern, with whalebones showing, 
and handle in shaky condition. 

SCENE. 

Room with open fire. Table spread for tea. Stigghsts be- 
fore the fire toasting large slice ofbread with long toasting-fork. 
Mks. Wellee blowing the fire with bellows. 

{Boor opens and ^AM. thrusts in his head.) 

Mrs. W. Now, then ; what do you want, young man ? {Sam 
surveys the scene tvithout replying. Mrs. W. repeats question.) 

Sam. Guv'uor in ? 

Mrs. W. No, he isn't ; and I don't expect him, either. 

Sam. I suppose he's a drivin' up to-day ? 

Mrs. W. He may be, or he may not. {Butters toast.) I 
don't know, and what's more, I don't care. Ask a blessin', Mr. 
Stiggins? {Stiggins asks the blessing, and commences on the 
toast. In the meantime Sam enters.) 

Sam. Mother-in-law, how are you? 

Mrs. W. Why, I do believe he's a Weller. 

Sam. I rayther think he is, and 1 hope this here reverend 
gen'l'm'n '11 excuse me saying that I wish I was the Weller as 
owns you, mother-in-law. {Kisses her.) 

Mrs. W. Get along with you ! {Pushes him away.) 

Stiggets. For shame, young man ! 

Sam. No ofi'ense, sir ; no offense ; you're wery right, though ; 
it ain't the right sort o' thing, ven mothers-in-law is young and 
good-lookin' — is it, sir ? 

Stiggins. It's all vanity. 

Mrs. W. Ah, so it is. {Sets her cap to rights. All sit doivn to tea.) 

Sam. How's father ? {Mrs. W. raises hands and rolls eyes- 
Mr. S. groans.) What's the matter with that 'ere gen'l'm'n? 



306 WRAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Mes. W. He's shocked at the way your father goes on in 

Sam. 0, he is, is he ? 

Mes. W. (gravely). And with too good reason. {Stiggins 
takes a fresh jjiece of toast and groans heavily.) 

Mes. W. He's a dreadful reprobate ! 

Stiggins. A man of wrath! {Takes a large mouthful of 
toast and groans again.) 

Sam. What's the old 'un up to now ? 

Mes. W. Up to, indeed ! 0, he has a hard heart. Night 
after night does this excellent man — don't frown, Mr. Stiggins ; 
I will say you are an excellent man — come and sit here for hours 
together, and it has not the least elTect upon him. 

Sam. Well, that «5 odd. It 'ud have very considerable effect 
upon me, if I wos in his place ; I know that. 

Stiggins {solemnly). The fact is, my young friend, he 
has an obdurate bosom. 0, my young friend, who else could 
have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and 
withstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society 
for providing the infant negroes in. the West Indies with flannel 
waistcoats and moral pocket-handkerchiefs ? 

Sam. What's a moral pocket-'ankercher ? I never see one 
o' them articles o' furniture. 

Stiggins. Those which combine amusement with instruc- 
tion, my young friend, blending select tales with wood-cuts. 

Sam. Oh, I know ; them as hangs up in the linen-drapers' 
shops, with beggars' petitions, and all that 'ere upon 'em? {Mr. 
S. nods assent.) An' he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, 
wouldn't he ? 

Mes. W. Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant ne- 
groes were — What did he say the infant negroes were ? 

Stiggins {deeply affected). Little humbugs. 

Mes. W. Said the infant negroes were little humbugs. {Both 
groan. Tea being ended, Mr. S. leaves. Mrs. W. clears the table 
and exit.) {Enter Me. W. Senior.) 

Me. W. What ! Sammy ! 



THE TWENTY-FOUBTR EVENING. 307 

Sam. What ! Old Nobs ! {They shake hands.) 

Mr. W. Wery glad to see you, Sammy ; though how you've 
managed to get over your mother-in-law is a mystery to me. I 
only vish you'd write me out the receipt — that's all. 

Sam. Hush ! She's at home, old feller. 

Mr. W. She ain't vithin hearin' ; she always goes and blows 
up down-stairs for a couple o' hours arter tea; so we'll just give 
ourselves a damp, Sammy. {Mixes toddy and produces pipes ; 
they then sit down opposite each other, in front of the fire.) Any 
body been here, Sammy? {Sam nods assent.) Eed-nosed 
chap ? {Sam nods again.) Amiable man, that 'ere, Sammy. 

Sam. Seems so. 

Mr. W. Grood hand at accounts. 

Sam. Is he ? 

Mr. W. Borrows eighteen pence on Monday, and comes on 
Tuesday for a shillin' to make it up a half-crown ; calls again 
on Ve'n'sday for another half-crown to make it five shillin's, and 
goes on doublin' till he gets it up to a five-p'und note in no time, 
like them sums in the 'rithmetic book 'bout the nails in the 
horse's shoes, Sammy. {Sam nods.) {Pause.) 

Sam. So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskits ? 

Mr. W. Cert'nly not. What's the good o' flannel veskits to 
the young niggers abroad ? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy 
{loivering his voice), I'd come down wery han'some towards 
strait- veskits for some people at home. {Winks at Sam.) 

Sam. It cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket-'an- 
kerchers to people as don't know the use on 'em. 

Mr. W. They're alvays a-doin' some gammon o' that sort, 
Sammy. T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road, v'en who 
should I see standin' at the chapel door, with a blue soup-plate 
in her hand, but your mother-in-law. I werily believe there 
wos change for a couple o' suv'rins in it then, Sammy, all in 
ha'pence, and as the people came out they rattled the pennies 
in, till you'd ha' thought no mortal plate as ever was baked 
could ha' stood the wear and tear. What d'ye think it was all for ? 



308 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f . 

Sam. For another tea-drinkin', perhaps. 

Mr. W. Not a bit on it ; for the shepherd's water-rate, Sammy. 

Sam. The shepherd's water-rate ? 

Mr. W. Aye; there was three quarters owin', and the 
shepherd hadn't paid a farden ; not he. Perhaps it might be on 
account that water warn't o' so much use to him, for it's wery 
little o' that tap he drinks, Sammy, wery ; he knows a trick 
worth a good half dozen of that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't 
paid, and so they cuts the water off. Down goes the shepherd 
to chapel, gives out as he's a persecuted saint, and says he 
hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the water off '11 be soften- 
ed, and turned in the right vay; but he rather thinks he's book- 
ed for somethin' uncomfortable. Upon this, the women calls a 
meetin', sings a hymn, wotes your mother-in-law into the chair, 
wolunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to 
the shepherd. And if he ain't got enough out on 'em, Sammy, 
to make him free of the water company for life, I'm one Dutch- 
man and you're another, and that's all about it. {After a 
pause.) The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy, that 
they reg'larly turn the heads of all the young ladies about here. 
Lord bless their little hearts, they think it's all right, and don't 
know no better; but they're the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, 
they're the wictims o' gammon. 

Sam. I s'pose they are. 

Mr. W. Nothin' else ; and what aggrawates me, Samivel, 
is to see 'em a wastin' all their time and labor in makin' clothes 
for copper-colored people as don't want' em, and takin' no 
notice of the flesh-colored Christians as do. If I'd my vay, 
Samivel, I'd just stick some o' these here lazy shepherds be- 
hind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down a four- 
teen-inch-wide plank all day. That 'ud shake the nonsense 
out of 'em, if any thin' vould. [Mrs. W^s voice heard without.) 
Here's your dear relation, Sammy. 

{Enter Mrs. W.) 
Mrs. W. Oh ! you've come back, have you? 



THE TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. 309 

Me. W. Yes, my dear. 

Mes. W. Has Mr. Stiggins been back ? 

Me. W. No, my dear, be basn't. {Lights pipe again.) And 
wbat's more, my dear, I sball manage to surwive it, if be don't 
come back at all. 

Mes. W. Ugb ! you wretcb 

Me. W. Tbank'ee, my love. {Exit Mrs. W.) 

Sam. Come, come, fatber, none o' tbese little lovin's afore 
strangers. {Prepares to go.) 

Me. W. Goin', Sammy ? 

Sam. Off at once. 

Me. W. I visb you could muffle tbat 'ere Stiggins and 
take bim witb you. 

Sam {reproachfully). I'm asbamed on you. Wbat do you 
let bim sbow bis red nose in tbe Markis o' Granby at all for ? 

Me. W. Cos I'm a married man, Samivel ; cos I'm a mar- 
ried man. Wen you're a married man, Samivel, you'll under- 
stand a good many tbing:s as you don't understand now ; but 
v'etber it's wortb wbile goin' tbrougb so mucb to leaiTi so little, 
as tbe cbarity-boy said v'en be got to tbe end of tbe alpbabet, 
is a matter o' taste. I ratber tbink it isn't. 

Sam. Well, good-by. 

Me. W. Tar, tar, Sammy. 

Sam {stopping short). I've only got to say tbis bere, 
tbat if I was the properiator o' tbe Markis o' Granby, and tbat 
'ere Stiggins came and made toast in my bar, I'd — 

Me. W. {anxiously). Wbat? Wbat? 

Sam. P'ison bis rum and water. 

Me. W. {shaking his son eagerly hy the hand). No ! 
Would you r'aly, Sammy ? Would you, tbougb ? 

Sam. I would. I wouldn't be too bard upon bim at first. 
I'd drop bim in tbe water-butt, and put tbe lid on ; and if I 
found be was insensible to kindness I'd try tbe otber persvasion. 
{Mr. Weller looks admiringly upon his son, grasps him 
hy the hand, and turns slowly away. Exit Sam.) 



310 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 



n 



fwENTY-flFTH ^VENIJMQ. 

The humorous sketch introduced in our former evening's 
entertainment will, no doubt, have afforded our "stock company" 
a little practice, and some insight into stage-action. We pro- 
pose this evening to give a few of our '^ stars " an opportunity of 
winning fresh laurels in two short comediettas adapted from 
the German expressly for this work. As they require neither 
set scenery nor special costumes, they will he found admirably 
adapted for parlor performance. For those of our readers who 
desire to display their histrionic talents with all the accessories 
of scenery and costumes, we would recommend a little volume 
of selected plays for parlor performance* which avoids the 
difficulty so often experienced in selecting a suitable piece. 

We propose, in the first piece, to show how easy it is to get 
into 

A Family Fix. 

CHARACTERS. 

Mr. Jokes — An old gentleman. 

Mrs. Catherine Jones — An old lady, Jones' wife. 

Emma — Their daughter. 

Alfred — Emma's husband. 

Henry — Man-servant. 

Eliza — Housemaid. 

COSTUMES. 

Appropriate to a well-to-do household. Gray wigs for Mr. 
and Mrs. Jones. 

*" Twenty -six Short and Amusing Plays for Parlor Performance." Published by 
Dick & ritzgeraJd. 



THE twenty-fifth: EVENINa. 3H 

SCENE. 

A dining-room, with table laid for breakfast for four persons. 
Left, a work-table and sofa. Eight, a small table with news- 
papers, etc. (In laying a table for four, arrange it so that two 
are seated facing the audience, and one at each end, so that no 
one need turn his back to the audience.) 

(Henhy is husy arranging the hreakfast-table, placing the 
chairs, etc., humming a tune.) 

Eliza (outside). • Henry ! Henry ! Open the door ! 

HEimY {opening the door, centre). Open, it is. 
{Enter Eliza, carrying a plate of eatables in each hand, tvith 
which she advances toward the table.) 

Hene,t. Come; let me help you. {Takes one of the plates 
from her with one hand, puts the other arm around her tvaist and 
kisses her on the cheek.) 

Eliza. Oh, Henry ! If any one saw you ! {Puts plate on 
table.) 

Heney. Who should see us, then*? {Puts his plate down.) 

Eliza. Master might come at any moment. 

HE:N'iiY. Ah ! {Bubs his hands.) A kiss snatched as we go — 
on the wing, as it were — has such a flavor ! {Smacks his lips.) 

Eliza. But if master — 

Hexey. And suppose he did see it ; what's the odds ? 

Eliza. I should sink down for very shame. 

He:n"PvY. Why so ? He kisses his wife, I suppose — only mar- 
ried three months. 

Eliza. His wife— yes. That's all very well. Now, if you 
were my husband — 

Heishy {tenderly). How soon shall it be ? 

Eliza. Ah ! who knows ? 

Hexey {tvith his arm around her wg^ist). Any way, not as 
soon as we want it to be. Eh ? 

EiAZ A {releasing herself ). Pretty talk, indeed! Attend to 
the table, now. {They both complete tJie table-arrangements.) 

(Alfred enters, but partially retires, unobserved, and listens.) 



312 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Eliza. The old folks are coming to breakfast. They are a 
nice old couple ; ain't they ? 

Henry. Yes -, and how pleased they are to see the young peo- 
ple so happy. I'm sorry I can't supply you with a father-in-law. 

Eliza. That's no matter. Nor can I — 

Henry. Oh ! we shall be all-sufficient for one another. We 
shall get along just as well without fathers-in-law or mothers-in- 
law. {Gravely.) Thank Heaven, the table is laid! 

Eliza. Yes. 

Henry. What ? 

Eliza. Oh, nothing ! I said yes. 

Henry. That is not enough ; you should say the same. 

Eliza. What, then ? 

Henry. Thank Heaven, the table is laid! 

Eliza. What ! I ? What for ? 

Henry. Oh ! it is only right and proper. 

Eliza. Go along with your nonsense ! 

Henry. When any one has finished what he is about, he 
should always say '' I'm glad," or '^I'm thankful," or ^* thank 
Heaven, so and so is done 1" 

Eliza. What a silly notion ! 

Henry. It is not nonsense ; it is no silly notion. When the 
world was created, and the beasts and the monkeys, and lastly, 
Adam, he looked around him, and seeing the difference between 
himself and the other monkeys, he said ^'Thank Heaven, that I 
am a man !" It is only right that when we have accomplished 
any thing we should feel thankful, and say that we are so. 

Eliza. I believe you are getting crazy ! 

Henry. Eliza ! It is not craziness ; you are worse than a 
heathen. {Softly.) Come here, now, and say as I do, "Thank 
Heaven, the table is laid ! " 

Eliza. No. 

Henry. Just to please me. 

Eliza. I won't, now ! 

Henry {earnestly). You will not? 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 313 

Eliza. No, indeed ! 

Hexrt. When I ask you to oblige me, you say you won't ? 

Eliza. Yes ! sir! ! If I won't, I won't; not if you begged me 
ten times over ! 

Heney. What ! Did you say I might ask you tentimeS; and 
you would refuse ? 

Eliza. Certainly, if you want me to do any such nonsense. 

Hein-rt. It is not nonsense -, but that has nothing to do with 
it. You should say it, simply because I ask you to do so. 

Eliza. I am not going to. 

Henry {reproachfully). Eliza! 

Eliza {in the same manner). Heniy ! 

Henry {with determination). Now you have got to say it ! 

Eliza. I must ? 

Henry. Yes j I demand it. 

Eliza. You must be dreaming ; perhaps you got out of the 
wrong side of your'bed this morning. 

Henry. Don't be absurd ! I am in earnest. You have only 
to say " Thank Heaven, the table is laid !" 

Eliza {saucilif). Have I got to say that ? 

Henry. Yes. 

Eliza. I have got to ? I must; eh ? 

Henry. You must and shall. 

Eliza. Now I shan't say it at all. 

Henry {sorrowfully). Eliza, I beg you. 

Eliz^ I shall not. 

Henry. For the last time, I beg you, 

Eliza. I won't ! I won't ! I won't ! No, not if you stand 
on your head and ask me. 

Henry. We'll see, anyhow ! i 

Eliza {folding her arms). We'll see. 

Henry. So ; you will not yield f You choose to be obstinate ? 

Eliza. Yes. 

Henry. You won't ? 

Eliza. No! {Stamps her foot.) Have done, now I 



314 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Henby. Well, I'll make you. {Seizes her ly both wrists and 
squeezes them.) 

Eliza. Oh ! Oh ! You hurt me ! 

Henkt. Say it. 

Eliza. No. Oh ! {Screams.) 

Henry {dictating to her). Thank Heaven, the table is laid, 

Eliza. No, no ! ( Slips away from Mm ; hits him on the hand 
and blows on her wrists.) You wretch ! to squeeze me so. I 
won't say it, now ; there ! 

Heney. Indeed ! Well, it is all over between us. 

Eliza. I don't care. You may go. 

Hekry. You give me up so lightly ? 

Eliza. If you want to act like a luney. 

Hekry (beseechingly) . Why can't you say those few words? 

Eliza. Just because I don't choose. I won't; and that's 
an end of it. 

Hexey. Oh! go to ! {Bell rings, left.) 

Eliza. We'll see to this another time. {Goes left.) 

Heney {folloiving and catching hold of her dress). Eliza ! 
Thank Heaven, the — 

Eliza {pushing him away). No ! {Exit, left.) 

Heney. Stubbornness, thy name is woman ! You may beg, 
pray, use force — all in vain. I do believe you might kill her 
before she would say it. 

{Enter Alfeed, laughing.) 

Aleeed. For the present, spare her life, Henry, whether 
she says it or not. 

Heney {confusedly). Oh ! sir; did you overhear — ? • 

Alfeed. A part of your quarrel!" Yes. That girl has a 
pretty strong will of her own. 

Hekry. Generally she is so good-natured. I cannot con- 
ceive what ails her to-day. 

Alfeed. Yes, indeed I It would take a pretty smart man to 
find out always what ails the women. But go ; bring a bottle 
of Madeira ; my father-in-law likes a glass after breakfast. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 315 

Henry {going off, muttering). She shall say it! She 
shall! {Exit.) 

Alfred {looking left). I wander if she is dressed yet. I 
heard her ring. Ah ! here she comes. 

{Enter Emma, left.) 

Emma. Good morning, Hubby. 

Alfred {embracing her). My dear Emma! 

Emma. Did you sleep well ? 

Alfred. Splendidly ! The happy always sleep well. 

Emma. And you are happy ? 

Alfred. Can you ask f Are you not my wife ? 

Emma. Flatterer {archly) ! You should give up all that 
sort of thing. We have been married three months. It is time 
you behaved more like a husband and less like a lover. 

Alfred. And you wish it so ? 

Emma. How can you ask? But every one says that the 
men alter considerably after marriage, and so, I suppose, I 
must prepare for it. The longer you put oif this change, the 
more you will spoil me, and the harder it will seem to me. 

Alfred. You shall find no change in me, dear wife. You 
shall never have to complain of any difierence in me. 

Emma. I will never give you any cause for it. 

Alfred. You are the best little wife in the world. You 
anticipate my wishes before I utter them. 

Emma. And don't you do so too ? 

Alfred. How can I withstand your bright eyes-^when you 
look so lovingly — ^as if inviting a kiss. {Bends to kiss her.) 

Emma {repulsing him). Please to understand that my eyes 
never invite a kiss ; they only submit to it sometimes. 

Alfred. Ah ! then submit now. 

Emma {embracing him). Dear Alfred ! 

Alfred. Dear wifey ! 

Emma {sitting at table, left, and taking up her needle-work). 
The old folks are late. I expected them before this. 

Alfred {sitting by her). Do you miss them very much? 



316 WHAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT f 

Emma. What a thoughtless question ! 

Alfked. No, no. I did not mean it in that way. {Pause ; 
then laughs.) Oh ! just now — {Laughs heartily.) 

Emma. What was just now? It must have been very amusing. 

Alfred. I overheard such a funny thing ! 

Emma. Overheard ? Where, then ? 

Alfeed {still laughing). Quite by accident — as I came out 
of my room — I heard voices in earnest conversation ; so I stopped 
and hstened. Henry and Eliza had just laid the table, and 
Henry said, with the greatest fervor, '' Thank Heaven, the table 
is laid !" and wanted Eliza to say the same, telling her that we 
should always say so when we have finished any thing we un- 
dertake. 

Emma. How absurd 1 

Alfred. Eliza demurred, Henry insisted, and they had a 
regular quarrel. He tried to compel her to say it, but she ob- 
stinately refused. 

Emma. Then he was as obstinate as she was. I do not see 
much to choose between them on that point. 

Alfred. It was simply a request on his part. 

Emma. But a most absurd request. 

Alfred. And scarcely any reason for her being so stiff-neck- 
ed about it. 

Emma {earnestly). Not a bit more stiff- necked than Henry 
was in insisting. I really cannot see that Eliza was in the 
wrong. 

Alfred {laughing). We need not discuss the matter. 
Such a thing could never happen to us. {Emma looks up arch- 
ly at him.) If I were to ask you such a trifle, you would do it 
without a moment's hesitation. 

Emma {laughing). Ha, ha ! . 

Alfred {seriously). I am satisfied you would do it. 

Emma. But suppose I didn't? 

Alfred. Suppose you didn't ! Oh ! it is not to be supposed 
for an instant • I would bet odds against it. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 317 

Emma. I don't thinkthe bet would be a safe one. 

Alfred. Let us try. 

Emma. Oh, no ! Let us dismiss the subject. 

Alfeed. I ask you, dear Emma; just to say, ^^Thank Heav- 
en, the table is laid !" , 

Emma. G-oaway'' How childish! 

Alfred (beseeddfigly). Please say it. 

Emma {inwardly struggling). What a thing to ask ! 

Alfred. Please, dearest wifey, say, just once, ^^ Thank 
Heaven, the table is laid !" 

Emma [gently). No ; I do not wish to say it. 

Alfred. Let me beg of you ? 

Emma {more resolutely). No, no ! 

Alfred {astonished). You refuse ? 

Emma {decidedly). Yes, sir ! 

Alfred. Can you refuse me 1 

Emma. It is such a silly thing to say ! 

Alfred {rising). Silly or not silly, that has nothing to do 
with it. It is simply a matter of fulfilling my wishes. 

Emma. You should not ask me to do such an absurdity. 

Alfred. That may be, but you are wrong to refuse. 

Emma {rising, indignantly). So I am. wrong? That is the 
first time you ever said so. 

Alfred. It is the first time you have disappointed me. 

Emma. It is the first time you ever made such a childish, in- 
considerate request. 

Alfred. Childish ! Inconsiderate ! What do I hear ? Is 
that the voice of love ? 

Emma. Love never demands absurdities. 

Alfred. Oh ! I did not demand. I requested it. 

Emma {with emphasis). Indeed ! And suppose you de- 
manded it ? 

Alfred. Then — {Hesitates.) 

Emma {still more emphatically) . And suppose you demand- 
edit? 



bl8 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Alfeed {after a pause). Thea I am sure you would com- 
ply at once. 

Emma {firmly). I should just exactly not comply. 

Alfeed. What ? 

Emma. You presume to lay your commands upon me ? You 
wish to conquer me ? I might possibly have complied with a re- 
quest, but obey a command — never! {Bings.) 

Alfeed. Just see how excited you are ! How you set your- 
self up against me! Is that the tone a wife should assume 
with her husband ? 

Emma. Ought a husband to treat his wife in such a ridicu- 
lous manner ? 

{Enter Eliza, centre.) 

Emma {to Eliza). I have forgotten my pocket-hankerchief. 
{Exit Eliza, left.) 

Alfeed. Emma, do not make such a serious matter of this. 
It commenced in a mere joke. 

Emma. I have done nothing of the kind. You turned the 
joke into earnest. {Seats herself to work again, her hack to Al- 
fred, who S7iatches and opens a newspaper, and sits down at a 
distance from her). 

{Henry enters, centre, with a bottle of wine, which he puts 
on the table. Eliza enters, left ; gives handkerchief to 
Emma, and is going off, centre.) 

Heney {aside, to Eliza). Will you say it now? 
{Eliza refuses by gesture and exit. Henry exit, centre, 
sorrowfidly .) 

Alfeed {laying his paper down, going a step or two toward 
Eynma, and speaking softly). Have you thought it over ? Will 
you give up your obstinacy "? 

Emma {throtuing down her u'ork). What! Obstinacy? You 
know I cannot bear that word. I am not obstinate. You are 
obstinate in insisting on such a piece of folly. 

Alfeed. But, Emma, consider. The folly has nothing to do 
with the case ; I simply wish you to do as I ask you. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 319 

Emma. And I simply wish you to drop the subject. 

Alfked. But my request was the first one made, and should 
take the precedence. I could never have heUeved that you 
would have said '^ no " to me. I can hardly believe it yet. 

Emma. Indeed ! I must never say " no," always ^'yes, yes." 
Just like the men ! You don't seek for a loving wife, a consider- 
ate friend. No. You men all want to make your wives your 
slaves. 

Alfred. What an exaggeration ! 

Emma, Not a bit. That's the way the subjection begins — 
with blind obedience. I will never be made a slave of— never ! 
I will defend my rights with my last breath. I will not submit 
to compulsion or force. 

Alfeed {sarcastically). " I promise to love, honor and obey j" 
so says the marriage-service. 

Emma. You see I was right. You want to be the master ; I 
am to be the slave. Your right is to command ; my duty is to 
obey. Oh ! I will allow you to be master — as I ought — in all 
sensible matters ; but when you begin with absurdities, nO; sir ! 
Not much ! 

Alfred. Those are not exactly the expressions to use to 
any one for whom you have the least respect. 

Emma. Those are not the kind of requests to make of a wife 
for whom you have the least regard. 

Alfred. But in joke — 

Emma. Oh ! your joke was soon turned into bitter earnest. 
(Cries.) Not a quarter of an hour ago you said you would never 
change, and now you speak to me like a cold, hard-hearted 
husband, who looks down on his wife as if she were a school- 
girl. 

Alfred {struggling with himself). Do not cry. You know 
that tears unman me. 

Emma {sobbing). I cannot help my tears, when you cause 
them. 

Alfred. Gracious ! What a monster I must be ! I make 



320 . WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

you cry ! Poor wife, how I pity your misfortune in being tied 
for life to such a monster ! 

Emma. That's right. Add insult to injury! An hour ago 
I could not have believed this. I got up so full of spirits. {Sobs.) 
I felt so happy ! (Sobs.) And now-^ {Cries bitterly.) 

Alfeed {ironically). There never was such a miserable wife ! 
That's what you mean, is it not? Out with it! {Aside.) 
Those confounded tears ! When the old folks come, what will 
they think? {Strives to command himself. Aloud.) Emma! 
Emma ! Wife, darling ! Come ; let us make peace ! 

Emma {looking over her handkerchief). Peace ! 

ALrRED. It is absurd of us to spoil this beautiful morning. 

Emma {softly). You begin to think so ? 

Alfred. No one in the world has less cause for disagree- 
ment than we have. 

Emma {pouting.) And still you try me so hard ! 

Alfred. Now, come; I will meet you half-way. Let us 
shake hands in token of reconciliation. {Advances and extends 
Ms right hand.) 

Emma {slowly taking his hand). You bad fellow, to worry me 
so! 

Alfred {drawing her close to him, and embracing her coax- 
ingly). And now, for my sake, just say, '' Thank — '^ 

"Emma, {releasing herself quickly). What! Again? 

Alfred. You will not ? 

Emma {persuasively). But, Alfred— 

Alfred. I have done my half. I offered you my hand. 
Now you surely ought to do the rest. 

Emma. You stick to it still ? Do you want to have the trouble 
all over again ? 

Alfred. You can end the trouble in a moment. Only say 
the words, and I am satisfied. 

Emma. {Pouts and hesitates. Then decidedly.) No, no! 
Not if you asked me till doomsday. 

Alfred. No ? 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 321 

Emma. No ! {Folds her arms in defiance.) 

Alfked {becoming more and more excited). All right! Very 
fine ! You see that I find gTatification in a mere trifle. You 
refuse to do it. My wish may be a foolish one, but you will not 
fulfill it. It may even be obstinate in me to insist on such a tri- 
fling point. If you really loved me you would yield, rather than 
increase my obstinacy.; but you won't. The words are nothing 
in themselves. The utterance of them was simply a proof of your 
affection for me, and I lay great stress on the little proofs of love; 
but you would give me no proof. I asked you, I begged, I en- 
treated, I commanded you, I tried in every reasonable manner ; 
but you remain obstinate. And you profess to love me ! Your 
desire to gratify your selfish obstinacy is too great to allow you 
to do the smallest favor for your husband. Never tell me again 
that you love me. Humbug ! 

Emma {indignantly/). What right have you to accuse me of 
obstinacy ? You admit, yourself, that it was absurd to ask me 
to repeat a few meaningless words, and still you would compel 
me to do an absurdity. It is degrading for any one to commit 
a folly, and yet you insist on my degradation. Do you call that 
love? You see that your conduct distresses me {sobbing), that 
you are making me miserable ; but you don't care a straw about 
that ; you only want to have your own way. Your unkindness 
brings the tears into my eyes, you look coolly on ; you see my 
entire existence rebels against your folly, but you only care to 
bend me to your will. I should like to know on which side is 
the obstinacy, the want of affection ? 
{Enter He:jtry.) 

Hexet {announcing). Mr. and Mrs. Jones ! {Stands at ta- 
ble, 7'eady to wait.) 

Alfred {gently, to Emma). Dry your eyes. What will the 
old folks think ? 

Emma {wiping her eyes). For aught I care, they may know 
all about it. I am not to blame. 

Alfred. It is your duty, as the lady of the house, to welcome 



^^ WHAT SHALL WE DO TO- NIGHT f 

your guests with a cheerful countenance. ( Goes to meet the old 
folks, Emmafolloivmg him.) 

{Enter, centre, Mr. and Mes. Jones, followed by Eliza, ivho 
remains just inside the door.) 

Joj^ES. Good morning, my children ; good morning ! Weli, 
how are you ? 

Alfred {giving his hand). You are most heartily welcome! 
{Takes Jones' hat and cane.) 

Emma {embracing Mrs. Jones). Welcome, dear mother! 
{Extends her hand to Jones.) And you too, dear father! 

Mrs. Joxes. Aye, Aye, my child! I haven't seen you for 
quite a long time. What has come of you ? 

Emma. Dear mother, you know — 

Mrs. Joi^'ES. All right, Emma; I know why. A newly-mar- 
ried wife has plenty else to think of besides her old mother. 

Jones. That's the way, the world over, wife ; hut Emma 
thinks of us once in a while. Isn't it so, daughter ? 

Emma. I am always thinking of you, dear father. 

Alfred {embarrassed, watching Emma anxiously , who avoids 
his looks). Come ; let us take our seats. 

Jones. With pleasure, my son. It is a good way for us to 
come, and I have brought a good appetite with me. {They seat 
themselves ; Mrs. Jones between Alfred and Emma. Eliza lifts 
a dish-cover, and retires.) 

Henry {taking Jiold qf Eliza, and dictating to her). Thank 
Heav-*^ 

Eliza {slapping his hand). Get away with you ! {Exit, 
centre.) 

Jones {with glass in liand). Ha ! ha ! Wife, you've got be- 
tween the young folks. That's very sensible of you. If they 
sat together they would soon lose sight of their guests. Come, 
children ; here's to many more happy meetings between us. 
{Drinks. Alfred takes his glass and hesitates ; Emma wipes 
away a tear.) What's the matter with you? You don't drink. 
Alfred with a face as long as my arm, [and Emma with a tear 



TRE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 32^ 

standing in her eye! {Laughs.) What! a matrimonial jar 
already? {Alfred signs to Henry off. Exit Henry, centre.) 

Mrs. Jones. What a question to ask ! Let the young folks 
explain. 

Alfred. Oh ! a mere trifle, a joke, not worth mentioning. 
My dear Emma is a little bit too sensitive. 

Emma {bursting into tears). And that, too, besides all the 
rest ; I am touchy ! 

Alfred. You might, at least, in the presence of our pa- 
rents — 

Mrs. Jones. Keep quiet, Emma ; these things will happen 
sometimes. 

Emma. I know I am wrong in not controlling myself better. 
I have tried, and struggled hard ; but I have been too deeply 
offended. 

Mrs. Jones. Ah ! How is this, Alfred ? 

Jones. Stop that, old lady ; don't you meddle with matters 
that dou't concern you. 

Alfred {witlt emotion). From the way Emma puts it, one 
would think we had had a pitched battle. Tou shall decide 
for yourselves. I will tell you all about it. 

Jones. It is not worth while. We do not want to interfere 
in your little matrimonial difficulties. {Eats energetically.) 

Alfred. Indeed, it is. I should like to have your opinion 
hi the matter. 

Jones. That's not worth much, anyhow. 

Alfred. Could you believe — 

Jones. We don't believe any thing. 

Mrs. Jones. Let him go on. We may be able to smooth 
down the little difficulty. Proceed, Alfred. 

Alfred. This morning, I overheard our Henry trying to 
persuade Eliza to say, " Thank Heaven, the table is laid !" and 
they had a regular quarrel because she refused to say it. I 
told Emma this as a good joke, and coaxingly said to her that 
she could never be so obstinate as Eliza was. Then, just for 



324 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

fun, I asked ber to say the same phrase. She actually refused, 
and that, too, with such determined obstinacy, that it led to 
some words between us. 

Emma (s<9&&m^). Now; you hear him ? Obstinacy ! touchy ! 
Pretty words he throws at me ! You know, I am sure, that I 
never was the least bit obstinate. 

JoxES {douUingly). H'm ! H'm ! Well, not so very. 

Mes. Jones {earnestly). No, husband ; you don't do Emma 
justice. She never was obstinate. {To Emma.) Dry your 
eyes, child. We won't interfere. You will soon make it up 
again. 

Emma. But he still insists on my repeating it, word for 
word. 

Mrs. Jones {astonished). What ! Alfred ! You still insist ? 

Alfred {embarrassed). Oh ! Please drop the subject. 

Jones {good-naturedly). That's much the best ; you spoil 
my breakfast. You, Emma, and you, Alfred, are a pair of fools. 
My son ; you must not always take notice of a young" wife's whim ; 
she will soon get used to all that, like my wife there. She 
knows better ; she does as I wish without hesitation. Why ! 
If I were to ask her to say, '^Thank Heaven, the table is laid!" 
she would say it at once. She's older, and knows better than to 
raise a fuss about nothing. 

Mrs. Jones {earnestly). But, indeed, I would not say any 
such thing. 

Jones {su%prised). Eh! What? . 

Mrs. Jones. You are old enough to know better. You 
would never ask such an absurd thing. 

Jones. Ah ! But suppose I did ask you ? 

Mrs. Jones. Why— Then— {undecided). No, I would not. 

Jones {half laughing, half serious). Why, wife, you surely 
are not in earnest ? 

Mrs. Jones. Indeed, then, I am. 

Jones. You would hesitate to do as I tell you ? 

Mrs. Jones (decidedly). Yes. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 325 

Alfred. Oh ! Pray, let us change the subject. 

JoxES {thoroughlif aroused, but not out of temper). No, sir. 
I never had this happen before, and it has got to be settled. 
Dear old wife, just say, " Thank Heaven, the table is laid!" 

Mrs. Joxes. Oh, let me alone ! 

JoxES. Please say it. 

Mrs. Joxes. No. 

JoK^ES {still good tempered, but more earnest). I say, every 
day, with hearty fervor, when I see a table spread for a meal, 
^^ Thank Heaven, the table is laid !" Surely you can say it once ? 

Mrs. Joxes. No. 

Emma. Mother, dear ! 
, JoxES. Catherine! 

Mrs. Jones {more and more decidedly/). No I 

Jo:s:es. Eaty ! 

Mrs. Joxes. No, no ! Just stop your old tongue ! 

Joxes. Kitty ! 

Mrs. Joxes. I won't ! 

Jo]^5:es {rising). This is getting serious. You surely won't 
set your daughter a bad example by your obstinacy ? 

Alfred {to Mrs. Jones). Oh ! Lee me beg of you ? 

Mrs. Joxes {rising). The old story. The men always take 
one another's part, when they want the women to submit to 
them. {To Jones.) Who ever heard of a father taking part 
against his own daughter ? 

JoxES. I take nobody's part but my own. It's no business 
of mine what my daughter and her husband choose to do ; I 
have now only to do with you. {To Mrs. Jones.) I want you 
to repeat the words I told you ; just that, and no more. 

Mrs. Jones. You should be ashamed to tell your wife to do 
such a stupid thing ; such a — 

Jo^Tis. Stupid or not stupid, that's not the question. I do 
it simply as a trial of your obedience, nothing else ; just as 
Gessler hung his hat up for the Swiss peasants to salute — simply 
to test their obedience to his authority. 



32a WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

Mes. Jones. Exactly. And as hat-worship was too absurd, 
too ludicrous, too degrading, the Swiss rebelled against their 
oppressors. 

Emma. The Swiss would not submit, and we won't. 

Mes. Jones. If you men set yourselves up as tyrants we can 
rebel too. 

Emma. We are women, and not slaves. 

Mes. Jones. If you want female slaves you can go to Tur- 
key — not here. We live in a Christian country. 

Emma {speaking fast and excitedly). I do declare ! The men 
would like to introduce Turkish manners here. Wouldn't they 
like to be Turks ? 

Mes. Jones {also excitedly). Heaven be praised, we are not 
slaves yet, and don't mean to be, either ! 

Emma. Blind obedience is nothing else than slavery. 

Mes. Jones. We want to know whether a command is right 
before we obey it. 

Emma. And such stupid orders as that we are not going to 
obey ; no, never ! 

Mes. Jones. No, indeed ! 

{During the above, Alfred and Jones have been trying to get 
a word in, hut without success. Emma and Mrs. 
Jones noiv walk about, left, as if in earnest conversa- 
tion.) 

Jones {aside, to Alfred). This is a pretty kettle of fish! 
We've put our foot in it this time. 

Aleeed {aside, to Jones). What on earth shall we do ? 

Jones. My dear fellow, you can do — do just as you please. 
This business has spoiled my breakfast ; and when I don't have 
a good, quiet breakfast, it spoils my appetite for dinner too. 

Aleeed. It is not possible to give in. 

Jones. In a quarrel like this neither party ever gains any- 
thing. I have been quite ruffled. Wliy, I believe I nearly lost my 
temper {smiling). That would never do ; the whole thing is not 
worth it. After all; I don't see that the women are altogether 



THE TWENTT-FIFTR evening: 327 

wrong. When you come to look at it, it seems just as obstinate on 
tlie one side to insist on a meaningless command, as it is on 
the other side to persistently refuse to obey it. {Takes Alfred 
aside, right, and appears to further explain the matter to 
him.) 

Emma {to Mrs. Jones). If I had had the least idea that 
this thing was going to raise such a bother I would have treat- 
ed it as a joke from the first, and done as Alfred wanted, but 
now it is simply impossible. 

Mrs. Joxes. Of course it is. Submission now would involve 
submission forever. 

Emma. He shall at least see that I have a little firmness in 
my composition. 

Mes. Joxes. That's right. We won't budge an inch. My 
old man will have a surprise for once. He'll find that I shan't 
get over this m a hurry. 

Emma. You will stand by me, won't you, dear mother ? 

Mes. Joxes. There's my hand on it. {Shakes hands, and ap- 
pears to give Emma advice, pointing occasionally at the men.) 

JoifES {to Alfred). In every quarrel the wisest party is the 
first to yield. 

Alfeed. I would do so with all my heart, but I cannot 
without loss of principle. 

JoxES. Nonsense. So every one says. The act of giving-in 
is a repulsive one ; so people call it want of principle. Now, the 
best way for you to get out of this is to end it pleasantly. 

Alfeed. End it pleasantly {reflecting) ? Ah ! I have it. I 
know how exactly. {Buns off quickly, right. ) 

Jo^STES {laughing loudly). See here, children, your conspiracy 
is getting too strong for me. Now I am going to eat my break- 
fast, and then I can renew the attack with fresh power. {8its 
down.) Thank Heaven, the table is laid, and we have nothing 
to do but sit down and eat ! {Eats.) 

Emma. Dear mother, shall we too ? 

Mes. Jones. Why, certainly. I don't see why we should go 



328 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

without our breakfast, because tbe men are making fools of 
themselves. 

Alfred {entering, with two shawls on his arm, coaxingly). 
Dear little wife, let us put an end to the war. Here, let us shake 
hands and make peace. I will admit that I was the most to 
blame, and, by way of penalty, I make you a present of one of 
these shawls. ( Unfolds them, and holds out one in each hand.) 

Emma {feeling a little hit ashamed). Alfred, I really do not — 

Alfred. Take your choice. 

Emma. At present, I — 

Alfred. Come, come! Choose now. {Emma, strongly 
tempted, hut against her inclination, points, hesitatingly, and 
glances around at her mother.) Which shall it be ? This one ? 
{Alfred holds out a shaivl in his right hand. Emma again 
looks round, douhtingly, at her mother ; then turns to Alfred 
and nods. Alfred lays the other shawl on the side-tahle, and 
puts the chosen one on Emma.) There. It becomes you ad- 
mirably. {Goes in front of her.) Now I have done at least 
three-quarters of the giving-in. Well? {Pauses a moment.) 
Come, now. 

Emma {yielding reluctantly). Thank Heaven, — {Looks quickly 

round at her mother, then whispers in Alfred's ear) — the table is 

laid ! {Covers her face with her hands, as if ashamed of herself). 

{Enter Henry, hringing in a dish, which he places on the 

table, hack, and remains there, standing, ivith napkin 

over left arm.) 

Jones. That's right, young folks. Excellently well done. 

Alfred {embracing Emma). It is all ended now? 

Emma. Forever. 

Alfred. You will never do so again ? 

Emma {lovingly). Never. 

Jokes. Good again. Let's drink a bumper to that. 

{Enter Eliza, with basket of fruit, zvhich she puts on the 
table, hack, and remains standing. Henry and she 
turn their hacks on one another, pettishly.) 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 329 

Alfred {hands Emma to seat at table ; Jills glasses. He, 
Emma and Jones salute and drink). The treaty of peace is 
signed, sealed and delivered. {Brinks.) 

Mrs. Jones (who has been examining the shawl on the table, 
touching Jones on shoulder). Old man,— 

J02nt:s {turning round). Eh? 

Mrs. Jones {pointing at shawl). Look there ! 

Jones. Well, what ? 

Mrs. Jones {slyly). There's another shawl. 

Jones. Yes, I see ; seems to be a very nice shawl, indeed. 
{Turns round again, and continues eating.) 

Mrs. Jones. Don't you want to pay your penalty, too ? 

Jones {with his mouth full). Me! with that shawl? Cost 
too much ; can't afford it. 

Mrs. Jones. But consider — 

Jones. I expect you to do it cheaper than that, old lady. 
It's all very well for a newly-married young man to conquer a 
peace in that way, but when he gets as old as I am he won't be 
such a simpleton. 

Mrs. Jones. Oh, you miserable old sinner ! {Appears to 
continue scolding Jones.) 

Emma. Alfred, dear, I hope you won't be so when^ 

Alfred {to Henry, laughing). Well, Henry, are you all 
right with Eliza again ? 

Henry {sadly). Oh, dear me! There's no give-in about 
her yet. 

Alfred. Oh, Eliza ! How obstinate of you ! 

Eliza {embarrassed). But, sir — 

Emma {laughing). You will have to yield, Ehza; you had 
better begin. 

Eliza. But you ought to know — 

Emma. We know all about it. 

Jones. That's so, Eliza ; you started the whole trouble. 

Mrs. Jones {eagerly). Yes, yes; the whole trouble began 
with you. You have spoiled our entire morning ; and, as q> 



330 WSAT SMALL WE DO TO-NlGBTf 

penalty for your offense, you must say the words before us all. 
Now, out with it {dictating slowly, word for word) \ Thank 
Heaven, — the table— is laid ! Now, begin ! {Jones, Emma, and 
Alfred burst out laughing and clap their hands. Mrs. Jones 
is astonished.) What's the matter now ? 

Jones. YouVe said the words yourself, old lady. 

Mrs. Jon^es. Oh, dear ! so I did. I never thought of that 
{Jtesitating a moment). Well, it is said. All the better. {Smiles, 
and offers Jones her hand.) 

Alfred. Come, now, Eliza, you are the only one left. 

Eliza {ashamed, looking at Henry). Oh, I cannot! 

Emma. I will arrange every thing for your wedding in 
three weeks. 

Eliza. Our wedding ! Oh ! Thank Heaven, — 

Aleeed {inquiringly). Well? 

Eliza. Sir? 

Alfred. Why didn't you go on ? 

Eliza. Oo on ! What then ? 

Emma. You began well, just now ; you said ^' Thank Heav- 
en ;" that's the first half. Now, why don't you finish ? 

Eliza. I said " Thank—" Oh, so I did! But I didn't mean— 

Mrs. Jo:n"es. And I didn't mean it, either, when I said it. 
You have said half; the rest should not worry you. 

Eliza {looking piteously at each, in succession). The table is 
laid ! {Hides her face in her apron and exit quickly, centre, 
followed hy Henry.) 

JoiTES. I think we have waited long enough for our break- 
fast ; now let us — 

Mrs. Jones. You did not wait very long. I don't think you 
would wait for your breakfast if the house were on fire, but it is 
full time for the rest of us to begin. 

Emma. Well said ! Let us take our seats, and to make sure 
that we shall have no further chance of interruption, we will 
ring the bell and draw the curtain. {They take their seats at the 
table.) {Curtain.) 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING, 331 



The PMlopena. 



CHARACTERS. 

George — A young farmer. 

Betty — His wife. 

Eugene — An intimate friend of George. 

SCENE. 

An apartment. On each side, a table. On the table {right), 
a long white table-cloth, reaching in front to the floor ; upon it 
an ironing-board, and rough linen, ready for ironing. The table 
{Uft) is laid for breakfast, with knives and forks, etc., for two 
persons. One of the cups, a fancy gilt one. 

(Betty is discovered standing at the table, left, dressed in a 
calico tvrapper, and white cap concealing her hair, which 
has been arranged in curls. While she cuts the bread, 
etc., she hums an air.) 

Betty. How the time does fly, to be sure ! To think that I 
have been married two whole weeks ! I have been very, very 
happy, but George is such a jealous fellow ! I declare ; I hardly 
dare look at any one else without seeing his eyes following my 
every movement ! I think he loves me, though. {Pause). And 
what fun it is with that Philopena ! He can't catch me, and I 
have tried every way to catch him, but he is always on the watch. 
If I could ouly throw him off his guard, now ; but how can I ? 
{Takes up the gilt cup.) 

George {enters right, ivatches Betty for a moment. Just as 
she has picked up the fancy cup he steals behind her, puts his 
arm around her waist and kisses her). Good morning, Betty ! 

Betty {slaps him on the mouth). What a bad fellow you are 
to startle me so ! 

George {coaxingly). Was the surprise so very disagreeable? 

Betty. I just had the cup in my hand. If I had let it fall 
it would have broken all to pieces. 

George {sarcastically, releasing her). It would indeed have 



332 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

been a pity to have broken that beautiful cup ; that charming 
forget-me-not from your young officer ! 

"Q^TTY {reproachfully). George! 

Geokge {still more sarcastically). A great pity, indeed ! You 
think so much of that cup that you must use it every morning 
at breakfast. What a sacrilege it would have been if I had been 
the unhappy cause of its destruction ! 

Betty. George ! 

George {sarcastically). He was a fine-looking fellow, this 
young lieutenant ! So warhke ! So brave ! 

Betty {looking at George for a moment, in surprise). Yes. 
That cup is very dear to me, and I shall never forget the giver. 
When our house was on fire, and, half suffocated with smoke, 
I screamed for help, and no one heard my cries, he dashed 
through the flames and rescued me, at the peril of his life. 

George {beseechingly). Betty ! 

Betty. But for him, I should have perished ; should never 
have been your wife. Am I right in cherishing his keepsake ? 

George. I am in the wrong. 

Betty. Should I not hold in high esteem a present which 
ever reminds me of a noble man and a noble deed ? 

George {deprecatingly). Dearest, darling wifey! 

Betty. You shall not have another oportunity for taking 
offense at the sight of this cup. {Takes it and locks it up in cup- 
board, back.) 

George {hurrying to prevent her). Don't do it, Betty. I 
acknowledge my error. Bring it out again. 

Betty. What did you promise me, the other day ? 

George. I promised to amend, and — 

Betty. You would not make me sick with your jealous in- 
sinuations. 

George. Yes, yes ! I see what a blockhead I am. 

Betty. We have been married just two weeks, and not one 
day has passed without your worrying me with some silly piece 
of jealousy. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 333 

George. Dear wifey, I should not be so jealous if I did not 
love you so much. 

Betty. Indeed ! Do I not love you, then ? 

George {embracing Tier). My angel ! 

Betty. And am I jealous of you ? 

George. Well, you — 

Betty. Well, I— 

George. You have no cause. 

Betty {releasing herself and looking straight at him). And 
have you any cause? 

George. No, no ! I know how foohsh I am. I am sore at 
heart ; bear with my infirmity. 

Betty. You should have confidence in me. 

George. Oh, I have, indeed ' 

Betty. Without confidence there is no true love. 

George. Yes, yes! You are right. Pardon me. {Betty 
offers him her hand.) Now bring back the cup. 

Betty. No. 

George. As a proof of your forgiveness ? 

Betty. No. If you are a right good boy for one whole 
week I will, but not unless. 

George. But, my darling little wife, — 

Betty. But, my darling little husband, it can't be. I mean 
to have it as I will. Now, come and take your breakfast. 

George. Is it all over ? 

Betty. Yes. 

George. Every thing serene again ? 

Betty {leaning on him). How difiBicult you poor, weak men 
are to convince ! 

George. You are an angel ! {Leads her to the table, and 
tliey seat themselves.) 

Betty {pouring out the coffee). Where are you going to-day ? 

George. In the woods. I must see after cutting down some 
timber. 

Betty {offering Mm a cup). Here is your coffee. 



334 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

George {refuses it). Remember the Philopena. 

Betty {slapping Jiim playfully on the mouth). Oh, you bad 
fellow ! 

GrEOEGE {laugMng). Yes, my dear ; you don't catch me this 
time. 

Betty {pouting). It's plain that we are married. 

George {laughing). Yes) about two weeks. 

Betty. Otherwise you would have sufifered yourself to be 
caught on purpose, out of pure gallantry. 

George. Am I, then, ungallant ? 

Betty. Yes, yes ! 

George. But you well know — 

Betty. That you are married. 

George {laughing). That I must not lose this Philopena. 

Betty. All an excuse ! 

George. Did I not make a bet with you that I would not 
lose this time ? 

Betty {slily). Here's your cup. 

George. That I should have to give you a new shawl, if I 
let you catch me ? 

Betty. I have tried these three days all I could ; now I 
shan't try any more. 

George. Shall we cancel the Philopena ? You are just as 
careful as I am. 

Betty {handing him the cup). Here ! 

George. Remember thg Philopena. 

Betty {impatiently). Oh, let it go ! I don't want to win it 
any more. 

George. But, Betty, what a lack of perseverance! You 
women are so smart, it ought to be so easy to catch me. 

Betty. You don't mean to say so ! 

George. Did you not make up your mind that you were 
bound to win this ? 

Betty. Dear George, — 

George. Well? 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING, 335 

Betty. Let us talk about something else. That Philopena 
is getting flat, stale^ and unprofitable. 

Geoege {laughing). With all my heart, if you wish. {Eats 
quietly for a moment.) Oh! By the way, my friend Eugene 
returned home yesterday, and is coming to call here to-day. 

Betty. What ! the woman-hater ? 

Gboege. Yes. 

Betty. You do not know how much he excites my curiosity. 

George. Indeed? 

Betty. According to your description, he must be such an 
interesting man ! 

George. Really ? 

Betty. I am really glad he is coming. 

Q^^o^O'E. {losing his temper again). What! Because he is so 
interesting ? 

Betty. What's the matter with you now ? 

George. Why, I have to go away; and — and leave you 
entirely alone with him. 

Betty. Oh, 1 see ! 

George. It will doubtless be most interesting to you. 

Betty. My big, strong husband wants to show me that he 
cannot keep his promise. 

George. But — 

Betty {mocking him). I acknowledge my fault ; — 

George {supplicatingly). Darling Betty ! 

Betty {still mocldng). I promise to amend. 

George {earnestly). That will I. . See ; I am in good humor 
again. 

Betty {teasingly). Is it possible ? 

George. I have determined to control myself, and trample 
upon my troublesome temper. 

Betty. Oh, what heroism ! 

George. Have I not succeeded ? 

Betty. Oh, I suppose so ! You are not, surely, jealous of a 
man whom I never yet set eyes on *? 



336 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO NIGHT f 

Geokge. Ah ! But you seem so anxious to see him I 

Betty. Poor cup ! What a time you will have to be kept 
in the closet! {George strikes his forehead with impatience.) 
Good-bye, dear cup ! I shall never see you out again. 

Geokge. In one week it shall come out. 

Betty. No ; not in a year. 

George. If, during the next seven days, I am once the least 
bit jealous, I promise you to give you your philopena. 

Betty. Oh, oh ! I shall win it anyhow ; so that is no 
wager. 

George. You think you will ? 

Betty. I only mean — Oh ! You never told me how it was 
that your friend Eugene came to hate the women so. 

George. Because he is a fool. 

Betty. Oh! That is clear enough. But there must have 
been some cause. 

George. Eugene has a peculiar temperament. His dispo- 
sition is naturally cold, and morbidly sensitive. 

Betty. Indeed ! What a nice man he must be ! 

George. Two years ago his betrothed jilted him, and it had 
such an effect on his mind as to cause a real hatred of the 
entire sex. 

Betty. His sweetheart was false to him. Was that all f 

George. Was that all {with energy) ! That all ? I should 
have thought that was about enough to drive a man crazy ! 
And you say so coolly, '^ that all !" If you should be faithless 
to me — 

Betty. Then you might have some excuse for going just 
a leetle out of your mind. But if you are almost so before that 
happens — 

George. You women never will learn how to treasure up a 
husband's love, 

Betty {sarcastically). No. We are entirely unworthy of 
such an invaluable treasure. 

George. The most of you. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTR EVENING. 337 

Betty. All. 

George {gently). With some exceptions. 

Betty. Without exception. 

George. No. You, for one. 

Betty. Thanks. No, my noble duke ; I am not a whit 
better than my sister women. 

George. You don't say ! 

Betty. I am a woman; nothing more and nothing less. 
We women are naturally all good. When, by chance, we are 
good for nothing, you men are to blame for it. 

George. You maybe right. {Looks out of window.) Seej 
there comes Eugene. 

Betty. Then I will be off. 

George. But you are coming back ? 

Betty. Why, of course. 

George. Try and get him into conversation. 

Betty. I will. 

George. Be friendly with him. 

Betty. Certainly. 

George. That's to say, polite, not too friendly, you know. 

Betty. My husband's commands are my laws. Good-bye ! 
Come back soon. {Aside.) I believe he's the least mite jealous 
again. 

George. I will hurry as much as possible. I will gallop all 
the way. 

Betty. Take care of yourself. 

George. Don't be anxious. Good-bye ! I shall be back in 
an hour. 

Betty {kissing him). Good-bye ! {Exit, left.) 

George {looking after her). She is so dear, so good, so 
amiable ! Oh, this accursed jealousy ! At any rate I am 
young, and we gain in wisdom as we grow older, 

{Enter Eugene. His dress is somewhat neglected and 
disorderly. He wears a full beard, and carries a book 
in Ms hand.) 



338 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

George {going forward, to meet Eugene). Welcome, friend 
Eugene ! 

EUGE17E. Back again, you see. 

Geoege, Well, and in good spirits 1 

EuG-ENE. Entirely. 

George. And your business matters ? 

Eugene. All settled, and in order. 

George. And happy ? 

Euge:ni:. Yes. I thanked Heaven when I turned my back 
on the city, and started back again to peace and solitude in the 
country. How do you get along f 

George. I have been married just two weeks. How can 
you ask ? Why, I am the happiest mortal under the sun ! 

EuGEi^ {shaking his head). Ah ! 

George. You don't half believe me — ^you woman-hater ! 

Eugene {taking George ly the arm, despondingly). Oh, yes ! 
I once had hopes of happiness, a foretaste of felicity ; and yet 
I was deceived. 

George. But only once. 

Eugene. And is not that enough ? 

George. You might have made another trial. 

Eugene. No — once, and for all ! 

George. Perhaps you were not wholly without fault in the 
matter. 

Eugene. My fault was only loving the faithless jilt too well. 

George. And you worried her with your jealousy until you 
drove her away from you. 

Eugene. Love is always jealous. 

George. You must have confidence; love cannot exist 
without it. 

Eugene. Are you never jealous ? 

George. I ? No — ^yes — ^that is — well, perhaps a little bit ; 
but not like you. You carried it too far. Why, you would not 
let your af&anced dance with any one. 

Eugene. She could dance with me. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 339 

Geoege. You could hardly bear her to speak to any one. 

Eugene. Could she not speak to me f 

Geoege. Not even look at another man. 

Eugene. Had she not me to look at f 

Geoege. We'll never agree on these things. But now I'm 
married you surely '11 come and visit me occasionally, as of old ? 

Eugene. I will try.' When my betrothed deserted me, and 
my passionate love for her was transformed into the deadliest 
hatred of the entire sex — when I fled hither, bought this prop- 
erty, and desired to see nothing but the trees of the forest and 
the stars in the heavens — I met you. We understood one 
another. I learned to like you, and it became a pleasure and 
solace to pass some hours every day in your company. ( George 
presses Ms hand.) I will try to continue my accustomed visits, 
and see whether I can school myself to meet your wife (shud- 
dering) —to look upon a woman once more. 

Geoege. My Betty is so good ! 

Eugene. Do you think so ? 

Geoege. Indeed I do. 

Eugene. They are all good for nothing, if she whom I loved 
so fondly could give me up. 

Geoege. Well, let that pass. We must bear a little with 
your weakness. But business compels me to leave you. I 
shall be back soon. Meanwhile, my wife will entertain you. 

Eugene. No need. My Byron will afford me all the enter- 
tainment I require. 

Geoege. A young fellow of twenty-six should soon get dull 
with nothing but Byron to amuse him. 

Eugene. But I shall soon have you again. 

Geoege. That's all very well; but life, without woman's 
love, is a blank indeed. 

Eugene. I have given it up. I should like to see what 
woman could please me now, or could again awake any warmer 
feeling in me. 

Geoege. Bah ! For two long years you have seen no one 



340 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

but your homely old housekeeper, and, perhaps, a few country- 
girls who ran away when you went near them. 

EuGEKE. Just as if they saw a wild beast I Yes ; that suited 
me exactly. They may avoid me, as earnestly as I avoid them. 
Upon my word, George, I submit my friendship for you to the 
severest test, by forcing myself into seeing your wife. 

George. I appreciate the sacrifice, but still I hope— 

Eugene {nervously). What? 

Geoege. That you will be a sensible fellow once more. 

EuGEi!fE. Am I not f 

George. To a certain extent you are a dear sensible fellow, 
but on one point — 

EiTGEiTE. Immovable as a rock. 

George. You can be as you please, for aught I care. But 
my horse is waiting. Good-bye ! 

Eugene. Good-bye ! 

George. We shall soon meet again. {Exit, right.) 

Eugene {looking after him). Oh ! Poor George ! How 
soon you will wake up from your dream of happiness ! Truly 
said one of the wise men of Greece, that he thanked Heaven 
daily that he was a man, and not a woman. ^' The women," 
said he, '' were the tares the enemy sowed among the wheat." 
{Sits, right, and reads.) 

{Enter Betty.) 

Betty {aside). So that is the grim monster who has the 
hardihood to defy us women ! I wonder, now, if I could cure 
him ? Here's a good chance to give my good, silly husband a 
lesson in jealousy, and perhaps — yes, I will at least try some of 
the wiles of the sex upon him. {Aloud.) Good morning ! 

Eugene {gets up, makes a studied bow, without looking at 
her. Grufflg). Good morning ! 

Betty {approaching him, andlaging her hand on his shoulder). 
I understand you dislike women. 

Eugene {stealing a rapid glance at her). I have a sworn 
antipathy to the sex. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING, 341 

Betty. That suits me exactly. 

EuGEi^E. Eh? What? 

Betty. My mother always warned me against men who 
Were given to be too attentive and devoted. Now, as you hate 
women, you cannot be a very dangerous man. 

EuGEi^-E. No, indeed ! 

Betty. Then, you see, my husband cannever be in the least 
jealous of you. 

Eugene. That's a sure thing. 

Betty {clapping her hands). Oh, how nice ! 

EuGEifE {whose eyes are always fixed on his book). Is George 
ever jealous, then ? 

Betty. Worse than a Turk ! That's the reason I am so 
pleased to find you entirely harmless. I need not be always 
under constraint with you ; I can laugh and sing to my hearVs 
content, and never raise any suspicion about it. 

Eugene. Suspicion about me ! Not much ! {Turns his 
chair half round aivay from her.) 

Betty {going to table, left, and sitting before tmlet-glass). 
Are you afraid to look at me ? 

Eugene. How so ? 

Betty. You turn your back to me. 

Eugene. It's not for that, but — {Edges his chair round. ) 

Betty. My husband told me to pay you every attention, so 
you must not be so churlish with me. 

Eugene. I did not mean it so. 

Betty. I was to entertain you ; but how can I, if you won^t 
even look at me ? {Eugene glances up at Jier, looking back on 
his book again.) Will you excuse my putting my hair in order ? 
I had not finished doing it when you arrived, and, rather than 
leave you alone, I came in just as I was. 

Eugene. Don't let me disturb you. I wouldn't stay another 
minute, if I thought I interfered with your arrangements. 

Betty. Thanks ! I really think we shall get along together 
splendidly. {Takes o;ff' her cap, letting her curls fall down, and 



342 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

arranges them.) But we cannot possibly carry on any thing 
like a pleasant conversation without looking at one another. 
The eye sometimes is as eloquent as the tongue. {Eugene looks 
at her furtively from time to time, but carefully avoids meeting 
her glance.) They say that people can talk with their eyes, 
and I really think there is something in it. {Pauses.) It takes 
two to converse, and, if I cannot get an answer out of you, how 
can I amuse you as my husband desired me to do ? Shall I 
sing you a song? 

EuGEi^'E (carelessly). If you wish it. 
, Betty {taking a guitar and timing it). Oh ! Oh, dear ! 

EuGEifE. What's the matter ? 

Betty. Oh, I cannot turn this screw! See ; my poor finger 
is quite red. {Holds her finger before his face, and blows on it.) 

Eugene {coolly). I am sorry for it. 

Betty {pouting). I don't believe it. 

EuGEifE. Why not ? 

Betty {mocking him). '' I am sorry for it." Is that the way 
you speak when you feel sorry ? You are as immovable as flint. 
Now, help me turn that screw. {Hands him the guitar. Eugene 
turns the screw. Betty kneels before him, striking the string till 
it is tuned.) A leetle bit more — good. Now the A string. No; 
the other screw. That's right ; thanks. Now you can take your 
book again. {Sits a little apart, and sings.) 

Ko one to love, none to caress, 

Eoaming alone through this world's wilderness. 

Sad is my heart, joy is unknown, 

Eor in my sorrow I'm weeping alone. 

!N"o gentle voice, no tender smile. 

Makes me rejoice or cares beguile. 

"No one to love, none to caress, 

Hoaming alone through this world's wilderness. 

Sad is my heart, joy is unknown, 

For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone. 

( While she is singing, Eugene pays more and more atten- 
tion; his book falls from his hand, as his gaze becomes 
fixed on her.) 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH E VENING. 343 

Betty {looking sideways at him). How do you like my song ? 
(Aside.) Hits his case exactly. 

Eugene, {tliaiving). Beautiful ! (Embarrassed.) 

Betty (putting doivn the guitar and singing, sotto voce). No 
one to love, none to caress. (Spoken.) Oh, dear me! How 
provoking ! 

Eugene. What's the matter with you? 

Betty (taking ujj some ivorsted). My winder is broken ; I 
wanted to wind some yarn. Now, isn't that vexing ? Oh, my 
dear friend, how you could help me ! 

EuGEXE. What! I? How? 

Betty. If you would only hold this skein while I wind it. 
Oh, please do ? # 

EuGEXE (nervously). But — 

Betty. Please — please ; I will do anything afterwards to 
oblige you. If you hate women you cannot help making your- 
self useful and obliging. If you don't help mo I cannot get the 
skein wound alone. 

EuGEXE. I do not understand how. (His gruffness is grad- 
ually disappearing, although he strives to retain it.) 

Betty. There is nothing to understand about it. I can 
show you how in a moment Do, please ? 

EuGEXE (7'eluctantly yielding.) Well, if needs must — 

Betty. Put your book away. Now turn round toward me. 
Hold up both hands. Not so. (Places his hands and lays the 
skein over them.) See how simple it is. How long have you 
been in this neighborhood ? 

Ettgex'E. Almost two years. 

Betty. And all the time alone ?' 

Eugexe. Solitude is my best friend. 

Betty. Please pay more attention ; you must assist me a 
little as I wind. (Directs his hands.) Solitude! Nonsense! 
That's all very well for a grumpy old hermit ; but you — how 
old arc you? 

Eugexe. Twenty-five years. 



344 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Betty {examining Ms face carefully). Why, I should take 
you for at least thirty. That's the fault of your shaggy beard. 

Eugene. Does my beard offend you ? 

Betty. Not at all. I like to see a good beard. A man 
without a beard ! Oh; fie ! Were you never in love ? 

Eugene {troubled). I beseech you, madam, do not touch on 
that subject. 

Betty. I beg you will not call me " madam f that is so 
horribly formal. 

Eugene. What, then, shall I ? 

Betty. Call me *^ Betty." Tou are my husband's esteemed 
friend, and — 

Eugene. Oh, but madam ! 

Betty. Well, what is it ? 

Eugene. But — 

Betty. B-e-t — Bet. Come ; out with it ! 

Eugene. I cannot. 

Betty. Just try. I never had a woman-hater call me 
" Betty." I should like to hear it. 

Eugene. Well-^B—5e— Betty ! There! 

Betty. Fie I 

Eugene. What is it ? 

Betty. You say ^' Betty " as if you would bite me. My hus- 
band says, '' dear Betty " so softly, so coaxingly. I like that 
much better. Don't tell me you were never in love ! 

Eugene. Madam, spare me! 

Betty. Betty! 

Eugene, Betty, spare me ! 

Betty- Do tell me now. I am all curiosity. Were you 
never in love ? 

Eugene. You are tearing open my wound afresh. 

Betty. You have loved, then ? You must tell me all about 
it. I thought you had a natural idio— idio— What's the word ? 
Eugene. Idiosyncrasy. 

BeITY. Idiocrat— 



1 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING, 345 

Eugene. Idiosyncrasy ! 

Betty {slapping his hand). Look out! You are dropping 
the skein. Well ? 

Eugene. What^ 

Betty. Tou were going to tell me all about it. 

Eugene. Oh ! Let us leave that alone. 

Betty. My dear Eugene, how can you refuse to gratify 
my irrepressible curiosity ? Was she beautiful? 

Eugene. Very. 

Betty. Young ? 

Eugene. About your age. 

Betty. What color were her eyes ? 

Eugene. Black. 

Betty. What washer name?' 

Eugene. Sophia. 

Betty. That's a pretty name. You must have loved her 
very deeply. 

Eugene. She was my all. 

Betty. Is she dead, then ? 

Eugene. No. 

'&ETTY {stopping her worsted-winding). What? 

Eugene. She is alive and in good health. 

Betty. You don't say \ Did you leave her, then ? 

Eugene. No. She was faithless to me. 

Betty. Oh, fie! What a shame! 

Eugene. Was it not ? 

Betty. How can a woman be faithless ? I cannot under- 
stand how sbe can be. 

Eugene. I do not imdei-stand it, either. 

Betty. Poor — poor fellow 1 Now I see — 

Eugene. What ? 

Betty. Now I see why you hate the sex. 
Eugene. I had good reason. Is it not so ? 
Betty. Faithless to her lover! How shocking! My poor 
friend; how you must have suffered ! 



346 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Eugene. Oh, Betty, I was nearly out of my senses ! 

Bettt. I should not wonder. You should forget the fickle 
creature. 

Eugene {softening hy degrees). I cannot. 

Bettt. Believe me, she was not a good woman ; she was a 
disgrace to her sex. Faithlessness is not a woman's failing ; 
it is not natural to her. 

Eugene. Oh, if she had only felt as you do ! You are so 
kind, Betty; your sympathy does me so much good! 

Betty. Eeally? 

Eugene. Oh, in my innermost heart ! 

Betty. I am so glad of that. I wish I could console you. 
{They look at one another ; she drops her eyes.) It is a sad thing 
to see a person in trouble. It always makes me cry to see 
others cry. 

Eugene. How kind, how feeling you are, dear Betty ! 

Betty {arousing herself). Don't let us speak any more 
about your faithless one ; she was not worthy of you. 

Eugene. Yes ; perhaps she was. 

Betty. How so ? 

Eugene. Perhaps I was also somewhat to blame. 

Betty. Oh, let us leave this melancholy history ! You shall 
tell me more another time^ when we are better acquainted. 

Eugene. I could tell you everything this moment. 

Betty. Do you confide in me ? 

Eugene. Entirely. {Betty drops her eyes. Eugene takes 
her hand.) You do not look at me. 

Betty. Take care ! You will drop the skein. 

Eugene. Ah, yes! {Besumes former position.) 

Betty. You are tolerably rich, are you not ? 

Eugene. Oh, yes ! 

Betty. How nice that must be ! I wish I was rich. 

Eugene. Money is not happiness. You are richer than I. 

Betty. What ! I ? 

Eugene. Your contentment j your good temper — 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH E VEXING- 347 

Betty. That's all very well ; but when one is rich one can 
help others, and do so much good. You are, of course, a most 
liberal man ? 

EuaE:N:E. I ? Yes — no — that is — 

Betty. No ? You have something so good-natured in your 
countenance. I cannot suppose that your dislike to the female 
sex has prevented you from acts of charity to the poor and 
needy ? 

Etjgene. Really, I have done so little. 

Betty. Fie ! I could not have beheved it. That is very 
wrong of you. 

Eugene. But, Betty, — 

Betty. No one should be so wrapt up in himself as to forget 
others. 

EuGEifE. But, dear Betty, — 

Betty. What ! Must I tell you the truth ? 

Eugene. I will improve. Will you aid me ? 

Betty. How can I ? 

Eugene. Distribute my alms -, show me the poor who need 
assistance. 

Betty. That will I, right gladly. I will show you where 
you can bestow your charity — plenty of it. 

Eugene. As much as you will ; you shall be my almoner. 

Betty. You are dropping the skein. You did much better 
at first. Are you getting tired of it ? 

Eugene. Not in the least. 

Betty. If you are, only say so ; we will give it up. 

Eugene. Oh, dear, no ! I'll hold it as long as you please. 

Betty. Ah ! 

'Etjg'E'KB {Jmnpmgup). What's the matter ? 

Betty. Something's in my eye. Oh, how it hurts ! 

Eugene [putting the yarn down and taking the ball from her 
hand). Do not rub it. 

Betty. Do please look, and see if you can find it. 

Eugene. Open your eye. 



348 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Betty. I cannot. Where are you? {Both eyes shut and 
feeling round for Mm.) 

Eugene. Here. ( Gives his hand. Betty leans against him. 
Eugene puts his arm gently round her and draws her head to 
his breast.) Try and open your eye. {Betty opens eye slowly. 
Eugene bends over her.) Which eye is it? 

Betty. The right eye. {Eugene blows in it.) That does no 
good. 

Eugene. Keep still a moment. 

Betty. It's better now. {Tries to withdraw.) 

Eugene {holding her). Dear Betty ! 

Betty. I am so much obliged to you. 

Eugene {earnestly). You are an angel ! 

Betty {smiling). So my husband says. I wonder how long 
he will say so ? 

Eugene. Forever ! You can never be otherwise. 

Betty. A few years more and wrinkles come. 

Eugene. You can kiss them away. {Tries to kiss her.) 

Betty {slipping away). What's the meaning of that, Mr. 
Woman-hater ? 

Eugene. Oh, let that be ! I was a fool ! I will forswear my 
folly, if you will only help me. 

Betty. I? 

Eugene. Be friends with me ; give me your assistance. 

Betty. With great pleasure. 

Eugene. I will do every thing you tell me to. 

Betty. You will be cheerful ? 

Eugene. Yes. 

Betty. Obliging? 

Eugene. Yes, yes. 

Betty. Never hate women any more? 

Eugene. No, no. 

Petty. Now I will try you. 

Eugene. So our compact is settled ? 

Betty {giving her hand). There's my hand on i 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING, 349 

Eugene. Seal it. 

Betty. What with ? 

Euge:n:e. With one kiss. 

Betty. Go along with you. 

Etjgexe, a pledge of friendship. 

Betty. It would be nothing of the kind. 

Eugene. An honorable kiss. 

Betty. If my husband — 

Eugene. He is my friend; his wife must be my friend also. 
{Takes her hand.) 

Betty. You know how jealous he is. 

Eugene {more urgently). Let me make a third in your 
home circle. 

Betty. But, Mr. Eugene, — 

Eugene. Oh! Please — please do? {Takes hold of lier, and 
kisses her.) 

Betty. Ah ! {Screams.) 

Eugene {relinquishing her). What is it ? 

Betty. My husband. 

Eugene. Where? 

Betty. Coming up the garden walk. 

Eugene {looking through the window). He walks quickly. 

Betty {sobbing). He saw every thing. 

Eugene. Impossible, from that distance. 

Betty. He has eyes like a hawk. 

Eugene. Well ! What if he did see it ? 

Betty. He is so jealous ! 

Eugene. There was nothing so terrible in it. 

Betty. You kissed me. 

Eugene. And if I did, — 

Betty. You do not know him ; he will be furious. 

Eugene {anxiously). Good heavens ! 

Betty. What a trouble — what a dif&culty you've got me into ! 

Eugene. Calm yourself. 

Betty. He will read it plainly in my face. 



350 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

Eugene. I had better go away. 

Betty. You will run right into his clutches. 

Eugene. What shall I do, then ? 

Betty. Conceal yourself. 

Eugene. Where ? 

Betty. Oh, please— quick 1 

Eugene. That will look as if — 

Betty. Only till his first passion is over. Oh, do^pray ! 

Eugene. Where, then? {Goes toivard left.) 

Betty. Not there ! That's my dressing-room ! 

Eugene. Here then? {Goes right.) 

Betty. Oh, don't go there ; that's our bed-room ! 

Eugene. Good gracious ! Where can I go ? 

Betty. Creep under the table. 

Eugene. Under the table ? No ; that's too^ 

Betty. My dearest, best friend ! 

Eugene. You may do with me as you will. ( Creeps under table. ) 

Betty {covering Mm ivifh the taUe-cloth). Now, keep per- 
fectly quiet. {Aside). Aha, Mr. Woman-hater, I've humbled 
you a little ! Now, we will frighten you a little bit. I am only 
treating him too mercifully. {Goes to door, right, and takes out 
the key, seats herself at table, left, and covers her eyes with her 
handkerchief) {Enter G-eohge.) 

GrEOPvGE. See ; I am back again. All alone ? I thought 
Eugene was here. Is he gone? Did you speak to him ? What's 
the matter ? You do not answer me. {Betty shakes her head, 
and sobs violently.) What can be the matter with you ? You 
are crying. Betty, do not keep me in suspense. {Betty throws 
her arms around his neck, and buries her face in his bosom.) 
Dearest wife, what has happened ? Tell me. 

Betty {sobbing). I cannot. 

G-EOEGE. It must be something terrible. Has any accident 
happened ? 

Betty. No; I cannot — yet I ought not to conceal it from 
you. My duty to you is first of all. 



THE TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. 351 

Geoege. Betty ! 

Betty. Your friend, who pretends to hate women, — 

Geoege. Well ? 

Betty. Is a deceiver ! 

Eugene {putting out Ms head). Ob, the serpent ! 

Geoege. I cannot understand — 

Betty. I was attentive to him, as you desired. {Still sob- 
Ung.) At first he was harsh and repulsive in his manner, — 

George {earnestly). And — 

Betty. Then he got more and more friendly ; — 

Geoege {excitedly). What next ? 

Betty. At last he wanted to kiss me. 

Eugene. Oh, the hypocrite ! 

Geoege. Kiss you ? 

Betty. I repulsed him — 

Geoege. And he — 

Betty. Forced me. 

Geoege. Ten thousand fiends ! 

Betty. You were coming through the garden- 

Geoege. Where did he go ? 

Betty {throwing her arms round his neck). Don't kill him ! 

Geoege. Then he's here still ! Where is he ? 

Betty. He besought me to say nothing to you about it, and 
ran into your bed-room. {Eugene tries to escape, hut cannot.) 
In my confusion, the key of the door came out into my hand. 

Geoege. He shall answer to me for it ! 

Betty. Dear George ! 

Geoege. To betray me — his friend ! 

Betty. Calm yourself. 

Geoege. Give me the key. 

Betty. You are so fearfully excited. 

Geoege. Oh, I'll be cool as ten thousand cucumbers ! The key ! 

Betty. You are running headlong into misfortune. 

Geoege. The key ! {Betty hands him the key. George 
rushes to the door, and puts the key in the lock.) 



352 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

Betty. Philopena! {George, astounded, stops instantly. 
Betty dances around, in high glee.) I've won it; I've won it. 
Philopena! {George looks at her douUingly, opens the bed- 
room door, glances around, but sees no one.) Who said he 
would never be jealous again? 

Geohge. Yes, but this way— 

Betty. Who was sure he would not lose his Philopena? 

Geoege. You snake ! 

Eugene. A double-header ! 

Betty. Didn't you oblige me to resort to cunning to win it ? 

George. And Eugene ? 

Betty. Is a perfect fool. 

Eugene, She's right. 

Geoege. I'm another, for my jealousy. 

Betty. Right again. 

Geoege. And the Philopena lost ! You killed two birds 
with one stone. 

Betty {striking the table). No, three. 

Geoege. How's that ? 

Betty. Your Philopena lost ! 
. Geoege. One. 

Betty. Your bet lost ! 

Geoege. Two. 

Betty. I'll tell you the other when you catch me. {Buns 
off. George exit after her.) 

Eugene {appearing from under the table). Now's my time to 
get away. Phew ! Did you ever see such a woman in your 
life? Poor George, she'll make it hot for him! {Walks up 
and down excitedly.) Women, indeed! A bad lot! But this 
Betty is the worst I ever came near. Confound all Bettys ! 
{Sarcastically.) So sympathizing ! So kind ! Wheedling and 
coaxing a fellow into making a perfect ass of himself — and all 
for what ? Just to win a miserable Philopena ! The mean, 
heartless — {Starting.) Ha! Somebody's coming. {Hurries 
off, left.) {Curtain.) 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENINa. 353 



JWENTY-^IXTH ^V£:NI]Mq. 

Another pleasant variety for private theatricals are Charades 
and Proverbs, either written, or performed impromptu. 

Charades in Pantomime. 

These Charades should always be impromptu, and can be 
made excessively funny. 

For example, take the word Knight-hood. 

One of the actors dresses himself for the Knight as Don Quix- 
ote, with a basin upon his head for a helmet, the poker for a 
lance, the fireguard for a shield, and so on, making out his ar- 
mor as he best can. 

He enters the room marching, followed by his squire, Sancho 
Panza, who must be dressed in a motley costume, and be very 
fat. As they enter a ady kneels to the knight, and, clasping 
her hands, mutely implores his aid to defend her from a cruel 
tyrant who holds her captive. As the knight raises her, the cruel 
tyrant rushes out from behind a curtain to carry her away. The 
knight shakes his lance at him, and the tyrant, completely van- 
quished, fiiUs to the earth. Leaving him there, the victorious 
knight leads the lady respectfully by the hand off the stage to 
perfect freedom. Sancho Panza struts after, turning to shake 
his fist at the conquered tyrant. 

In the next scene, a lady enters with an immense, ugly hood 
upon her head. Two other ladies, advancing to meet her, seem 
surprised, and point to the hood. Suddenly she turns back and 
holds up a large placard, upon which is written, ^^ The Latest 
Fashion !" The ladies lift their hands in dismay, and faint into 
each other's arms. 

The whole word " knight-hood^' is performed by Don Quixote 
knighting a youth. Ladies fasten on his spurs, tie his scarf and 



354 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHTf 

belt, buckle his helmet and hand him his shield. He kneels. 
The Don touches him on the shoulder with his sword. He 
rises, and a scene of congratulation, in dumb show, follows. 
Then the whole party advance, and form a 

E. C. L. 

Two Ladies. Don Quixote. Young Knight. 

Sancho Panza, Squihe of Young Knight, 

Kneeling. Kneeling. 

This may be made very laughable if grotesquely costumed 
and tragically performed. 

Impromptu Charades 

need not necessarily be in pantomime, but with a quick-witted 
company are better if carried out in spirited dialogue. For in- 
stance, take the word Indolent. 

The first scene being Inn, may be trusted to a conversation 
between the servants, that can be made very amusing. 

The second scene, Bough, may be a kitchen scene, where the 
troubles of a newly-imported Hibernian over her first batch of 
bread, can be introduced. 

The third scene, Lent, may be made a comical illustration of 
the despair of a book-collector over the return of a valuable 
borrowed book in a state of dilapidation. 

The whole word may turn upon the loss of a legacy by a 
nephew who was too Indolent to perform some trifling duty for 
a rich old aunt. 

ImxDromptu Proverbs 

are of the same character as parlor plays, but are entire in one 
scene, which illustrates some well-known proverb. 

For those who prefer written parts, there are volumes of 
charades and proverbs dramatized for parlor performance.* 

* " The Parlor Stage," published by Dick & Fitzgerald, is a collection of dramatic 
charades and proverbs expressly adapted for parlor performance. 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 355 

We propose to complete our last evening's festivities vs^ith a 

Parlor Pantomiine. 

The word " Pantomime '' has become identified in our minds 
w-rth a performance depending on the efforts of four time-hon- 
ored individuals — Harlequin, Columbine, Clown, and Pantaloon. 
The opening of the piece is usually in spirited dialogue, intro- 
ducing a lover whose efforts to gain his true love are thwarted 
by the conventional stern parent, and the jealousies of another 
parent- favored but maiden-rejected aspirant to the office of 
Bon-in-law. 

When the lovers' case seems most hopeless a beneficent fairy 
appears, and ^^ grants a stay of proceedings." 

In order to give the lovers an opportunity of proving their 
constancy, the characters are changed by the fairy: — the lover 
into Harlequin, with a magic wand, which confers on him invisi- 
bility at will, and a wonderful power over things in general; 
the maiden becomes Harlequin's inseparable companion, the 
graceful Columbine; the rejected lover is permitted to perse- 
cute and harass the loving pair as Clown, assisted in his dia- 
bolical tricks and plots by the stern parent as Pantaloon. All 
the Clown's carefully prepared combinations and machinations 
are frustrated by the magic wand of Harlequin — affording dis- 
play for wonderfully ingenious stage illusions and transforma- 
tions — until the constancy of the lovers is finally rewarded with 
front seats in the realms of love and bliss, with grand tableau^ 
colored fire, and soft music. 

This kind of performance is emphatically the ^' Pantomime " of 
the present and past, and requires a well-appointed trick-stage 
for its production. But the parlor pantomime is quite another 
thing, being simply a dramatic performance in dumb show. To 
render this intelligible to an audience requires a certain amount 
of exaggeration in the actions of the players— a caricature, in 
short, of natural gestures, verging on, and frequently overstep- 
ping, the borders of the grotesque. The French, naturally a 



356 WMAT SHALL WE BO TO-NIGHT? 

people of strong gesticulation in their ordinary conversation^ 
excel in the art of pantomime ; and we are mainly indebted to 
the "Kavels/' and other talented pantomimists, for elevating to 
a legitimate performance what formerly was only used as the 
frame-work of a ballet, and very often utterly unintelligible to 
the spectators. 

There are certain conventional actions used on the stage to 
depict the various emotions of the mind ; and, although few 
persons use exactly the same action under similar circumstances, 
the usages of the stage have defined some of them for the uni- 
form use of all. In order to avoid repetition, we propose to ex.- 
plain the actions used to portray the leading emotions and 
passions. 

Anger is depicted by drawing the mouth open, with the 
teeth firmly set -, shaking the head in a menacing manner ; the 
eyes opened widely, and the eyebrows knit ; the hands clenched ; 
stamping with the feet, and violent agitation of the body. 

Feae is shown by a sudden shrinking backwards, as if pre- 
paring for flight, accompanied by general tremor of the body ; 
the eyes and mouth are widely opened; the hands timidly 
raised, as if in irresolute defense. 

Geief requires a solemn, impassive countenance ; the eyelids 
lowered ; the lips drawn in ; the head hanging forward ; the 
hands clenched together at arms' length ; frequent sighs, and 
inattention to everything that is going on. 

Hatred is depicted by drawing one foot back, so as to turn 
away from the object hated; the hands stretched out as if to 
repel an attack ; the head averted ; the countenance expressing 
anger. 

Jealousy watches its objects stealthily with flashes of an- 
ger, grief and scorn ; with an occasional, but transient, gleam 
of hopeful joy. 

Joy shows itself by a bright and smiling face, dancing, and 
clapping of hands. 

Love is described by pointing at the object, and pressing 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 357 

both hands on the heart, with a languishing expression of coun- 
tenance ; followed by stretching both arms tenderly toward the 
object. 

Pitt looks down on the object pitied, with uplifted hands, 
and a mixed expression of love and grief. 

ScoEi^ for a person is expressed by turning away with aver- 
sion ; the eyebrows elevated ; the head drawn up ; the corners 
of the lips drawn down, and the mouth set as if to say the word 
*^pooh." 

WoNDEE or astonishment is shown by a stooping posture, the 
knees bent and the hands resting on them ; the head forward ; 
the eyes and mouth open ; followed by a gradual straightening 
of the body and elevation of the hands and arms ; the mouth 
set as if to say ^^oh!" 

Besides these emotional gestures, there are a few others of a 
conversational character, usually accepted as stage action. 

Calling a person not on the stage is performed by advancing- 
to the part of the stage designated, facing off; making three 
measured claps of the right hand on the left ] then drawing the 
body up haughtily with the arms folded, as if in expectation. 
If the person called is present, the caller approaches him, 
touches him grandly on the shoulder, beckons him, retires a 
step, and awaits his advance. 

Trying to Eecollect something is done by bending the head 
down, and thoughtfully tapping the forehead with the forefinger 
of the arm furthest from the audience ; gently shaking the head 
from side to side. 

JRecollection, following this effort, is expressed by raising the 
same forefinger upward, with a sudden gleam of intelligence on 
the countenance, and a quick nodding of the head two or three 
times in succession. 

A Demand for Money is made by stamping twice with the 
tight foot, slightly extended forward ; at the same time striking 
the back of the right fingers on the palm of the left hand, ex- 
tended forward and palm upward. 



358 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Vayment of Money is performed by thrusting the left baud 
into the pocket, withdrawing it apparently full of coins, and 
transferring them, one at a time, with the thumb and forefinger 
of the right hand, to the right hand of the receiver, extended 
palm upward for the purpose. When the necessary number 
has been transferred, the player returns the (apparent) balance 
to his pocket, places his left hand under the receiver's right, 
and with his right hand folds the receiver's fingers carefully 
over, so as to secure the imaginary coins in his hand. 

In Striking a person in the face, the sound of the blow is 
made by the person attacked striking his hands together very 
quickly, turning away as if endeavoring to avoid the blow, but 
really to conceal the motion of his hands. 

Thanks are rendered with a graceful bow, and a downward 
sweep of the right hand, palm upward. 

The plot of a pantomime, in order to be clearly comprehended 
by the audience, must necessarily be of the simplest kind. The 
success of the piece, therefore, entirely depends on rapidity of 
action and unflagging excitement, gradually increasing in de- 
gree as tbe climax is approached. The remarks on Stage-man- 
agement, on page 302, are also applicable in this place. 

The following original pantomime has been written expressly 
for this work, and will serve as an example. 

Love ■under Obstacles ; 

OK, 

Jack's Triumpli. 

CHARACTERS. 

Petee — An old country gentleman. 

Janet — His wife, a fine old lady. 

Kate — Their lovely daughter. 

Albeet — A rich fop — Kate's unencouraged suitor. 

Jack — A rollicking sailor — Kate's decided preference. 

Nelly — Kate's nice little maid. 

ViLLAGEES — Male and female. 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING, 359 

COSTUMES. 

In accordance with the several characters^ in the old English 
Dolly Varden style. 

SCENE. 

On left side the porch of a country house. Eight, trees, etc. 
Back, a landscape ; right of centre door, a large barrel or hogs- 
head, with lid. 

Kate is discovered sitting on a stool near house door, look- 
ing at a miniature, and weeping. Wrings out pocket-handker- 
chief, as though saturated with tears. Throws it off stage, and 
takes out a clean one ; same repeated. 

Albert enters {centre door) ; advances to Kate ; takes min- 
iature, starts with surprise ; points at it ; goes through motions 
of hauling ropes, and dances first steps of sailor's hornpipe j 
points again at miniature, then at Kate, shaking his head {a 
sailor is not fit for Jier). Kneels on one knee, to comfort her. 

Kate impatiently motions him off, snatching the miniature 
from his hand. 

Albert retires, despondingly. {Exit Albert, right. A tvhis- 
tle is heard, back.) 

Kate starts ; looks back ; gets up, clapping her hands. 
{Enter J A.CK, centre door.) 

Jack runs up to Kate. They embrace, and walk up and 
down, conversing. 

{Enter Jan'et, from house.) 

Jaxet- {hobbling zvith stick). Sees Jack and Kate ; holds up 
both arms in astonishment, and turns to go into house. 
{Enter Peter, /rom house.) 

Peter rushes out of house, knocking Janet over ; hobbles up 
to Jack, whom he swings roughly away from Kate, threatening 
her, and driving him away. 

Jaxet gets slowly up, and enters house. {Exit Janet.) 

Kate implores Peter's pardon, and extends her hand to Jack. 

Peter drives Jack off {centre door), threatening him with his 



360 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGRTf 

stick; then leads Kate into house. {Exit Kate.) Walks up 
and down stage, gesticulating fiercely. 

{Enter Albert, right.) 

Petee sees Albert ; welcomes him cordially, shakes hands 
with him, pats him on back, and leads him towards house. 
{Enter Kate, /rom house.) 

Albeet advances joyfully to meet her; tells her he loves her 
with all his soul. 

Kate despondingly shakes her head, and sighs. 

Albert calls Peter ; points to Kate's dress. 

Peter nods ; calls Nelly from house. 

{Enter Nelly, /rom house.) 

Albert leads Nelly to Kate ; points at Kate's dress ; then 
motions off right to fetch a milliner. 

Nelly goes to right, and claps her hands, etc. ; calling. 
{Enter Jack, disguised as a milliner, with several dresses on 
his arm.) 

Peter comes to milliner, and leads her to Kate. 

Kate refuses to look at the dresses; does not want any. 

Peter insists ; leads milliner and Kate right ; leaves them 
there and returns to Albert, with whom he converses. 

Milliner shows Kate the dresses, trying in vain to get her 
attention ; at last he lifts his bonnet and curled wig, and is 
recognized by Kate. 

Kate seizes him with both hands ; looks carefully through 
the dresses, dropping them one after the other on the floor, and 
converses with Jack; at last embraces him. 

Albert looks towards them; sees them embracing; points 
out the fact to Peter ; hastens towards the milliner, unobserved 
by the latter ; pulls off Jack's bonnet and wig, and discovers 
Jack. 

Peter hobbles quickly up to Kate ; threatens her and Jack. 

Jack escapes off right, shaking his fist at Albert. {Exit Jack.) 

Peter drags Kate into house, followed by Albert. Kate re- 
sists, but ineffectually. {Exeunt all.) 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 361 

{Enter Jack, disguised as a Peddler, with basket full of trim' 
mings, etc.) 

Peddler looks around ; sees house ; goes towards it; and 
knocks at door. 

{Enter Nelly, /rom house.) 

Peddlee points at his basket ; shows Nelly his goods. 

Nelly admires his wares; runs inside house; brings out 
Peter and Kate, and shows the basket. 

Petek signs to Kate to take what she likes; goes round be- 
hind the Peddler (who is showing his goods to Kate), and looks 
over his shoulder at the basket. 

Peddler suddenly gets up, upsetting Peter, backwards. 

Peter gets up, with Nelly's assistance, and knocks Peddler 
down with his stick. 

Peddler falls with his feet in the air, showing his s-ailor's 
pantaloons on. Gets up quickly. 

Peter chases Jack with his stick. 

Jack defends himself, and a scuffle ensues between them. 
{Enter Albert, /rom house.) 

Albert rushes to help Peter ; stumbles over the basket, and 
runs head first into Peter, doubling him up, and throwing him 
down. Then attacks Jack, who disencumbers himself of his 
milliner's dress, and a grand combat takes place ; meanwhile 

Peter picks himself up, rubs his back, shows signs of great 
rage, and pushes Kate and Nelly into the house, following them^ 
and shutting the door. (Exeunt Peter, Nelly and Kate.) 

Jack continues his combat with Albert with varied success, 
until both make a final dash at each other, miss, and fall, un- 
*able to get up again from sheer fatigue. They make futile 
attempts to strike each other ; at last both blow at one another, 
and fall back exhausted. Jack then crawls ofi". {Exit Jack, right.) 
{Enter Nelly, from house.) 

Nelly looks around; takes the basket, etc., and puts it in- 
side the house door. Then sees Albert ; goes to him ; raises 
his head on her knee, and fans him. 



362 WHAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT f 

Albert soon opens his eyes, sits up, and asks for wine to 
drink. 

Nelly runs to the house, and returns with a bottle. 

Albeet drinks ; rubs his back and stomach with the bottle } 
drinks again; gets up, and drinks again. 

{JEnter J A'NBT, from house.) 

Albert, half intoxicated, reels round, and hits Janet on head 
with the bottle, knocking her down. 

Nelly goes quickly, and helps Janet up again. 

Albert apologizes profusely to Janet, and assists her to a 
seat, and exits, right. 

{Enter Jack, disguised as an old woman, bent nearly double^ 
and hobbling with a stick.) 

Jack goes up to Janet, and desires something to eat. 

Janet sends Nelly into house for food ; leads beggar woman 
to chair, telling her to sit down. 

[Enter Katb.) 

Kate comes in with tray of food and drink. Offers it to old 
beggar woman. 

Jack puts his hands on Kate's head and blesses her, at the 
same time discovering* himself to her. 

Kate drops the tray in surprise, but recovers her composure 
quickly; picks up the bread, bottle, etc., replacing it on tray; 
gives it to Jack, and kneels down by his side. 

Jack eats, and makes love to Kate. 

Janet meanwhile drops off to sleep on a chair. 
[Enter Nelly, /rom house.) 

Nelly comes hurriedly ; sees Kate and Jack ; from their ac- 
tions she guesses it is Jack ; goes to them, and tells them that • 
Peter is comhig. 

Jack jumps up with a start, knocking the tray out of Kate's 
hands. The noise wakens Janet, and general confusion. 

Nelly runs off right^ and returns with a sack, puts Jack into 
it, and lays it near the house door. She and Janet then run in- 
to house. [Exeunt Nelly and Janet.) 



THE TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. 363 

{Enter Peter, from house. ) 

Petee, comes out to see what is the matter ; trips over the 
sack, receiving a blow on the back from Jack as he falls. He 
gets up, rubs his back ; sees the bottle ; picks it up ; takes out 
the cork and drinks ; rubs his stomach and drinks again, re- 
peating until the bottle is empty. Getting rather intoxicated, 
he turns and sees the sack ; staggers to it, and tries to sit on 
it ; the sack rolls away, and he comes down heavily on the 
ground. Gets up, shaking his head, and measures distance 
from his feet to the sack, so as to sit down on it this time, sure ; 
the sack rolls over again, and he falls as before. Angry, out of 
patience, and sleepy, he lays his head on sack, which rolls 
away, and lets his head fall with a bump. He falls asleep. 

Jack cautiously puts his head out of sack; looks around; 
sees Peter asleep, and the coast clear ; crawls out of sack, and 
throws off his disguise. 

{Enter Albert, right.) 

Albert sees Jack ; rushes at him, and tries to drag him off, 
right. 

Peter wakes up, sees them struggling, and hastens to help 
Albert. They overpower Jack, and force him into hogshead at 
back of stage, and shut down the cover. 

Albert seats himself on hogshead, to keep Jack secure. 

Peter goes off right, and returns with a club. 

Albert gets off, and signs to Peter to kill Jack with the 
club. They both wait, watching the hogshead, one on each 
side, behind it. 

Jack lifts the lid slowly, puts his head out, and looking round; 
sees Peter with club. Draws in his head, just avoiding a terri- 
ble blow from the club. Same repeated twice. 

Peter is annoyed at missing him three times, and says to 
Albert that next time he will not miss. 

Jack again lifts the lid very cautiously, thrusting out a dum- 
my head {exactly like him), which is crushed by Peter's club, 
and instantly drawn in again by Jack. 



864 WRAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIGHT? 

{Enter Villagers, i«^5^ in time to see the last effectual blow.) 

VzLLAGERS surround Peter and Albert, and threaten them. 
Two or three seize and hold Peter and Albert, while the others 
turn the hogshead over and drag Jack out, limp and powerless, 
apparently nearly killed, and group around him. 
{Enter Kate, from house.) 

Kate runs in distracted ; pushes Villagers aside, and takes 
Jack's head in her arms ; feels his pulse and heart ; motions 
one of the Villagers, who runs off right, and returns with a tin 
cup of water. She takes it and moistens his forehead ; binds 
his head with her handkerchief; gives him to a Villager; goes 
to Peter ; scolds him violently ; shows him wedding-ring, and 
insists on marrying Jack at once, before he dies. 

Peter is furious, and won't listen to her. 
{Meanwhile the Villagers are holding a consultation, some of them 
pointing to Peter and Albert, shaking their Jists; others 
pitting Jack.) 

Kate leaves Peter, and goes towards Jack. 

Jack explains to Kate that ha is not hurt ; shows her the 
dummy-head, which he has hidden under his jacket. 

Kate goes among the Villagers, and explains what she has 
just been told; tells them to go to Peter and Albert, and make 
them give money. 

Two Villagers separate from the rest, approach Peter and Al- 
bert, and demand money — much money — or they will hang 
him. After a time spent in vain resistance 

Peter pulls out of his pocket a large bag of money. 

Albert does the same. 
{The two Villagers take the money, lay it on Jack^s body, atid 
carry him carefully off, right.) 

Kate watches the Villagers, and follows them off, right. 
{Exeunt Kate and Villagers.) 

Albert touches Peter on shoulder ; points at him, and signs 
that he killed Jack, and will be hanged. 

Peter shakes his head, and says the same back to Albert. 



THE TWENTY-SIXTE EVENING. S65 

Albeet is indignant; and tries to strike Peter, but is pre- 
vented by the Villagers who have tbem in custody. 
{Enter Villagers ri^ht, dancing ; headed hy Jack and Kate.) 

Jack leads Kate to Peter ; shows Kate's left hand with the 
ring on it, to show they are married; also shows him the two 
bags of money, which he puts in his pocket. He and Kate kneel 
down for Peter's blessing. 

Albert tries to attack Jack, but is held back by his keepers. 

Petee shakes his fist at Jack and Kate. Tells them they 
may go ; won't have anything more to do with them. 

Jack jumps up; snaps his fingers in Peter's face; takes 
Kate round the waist, and joins the rest in their dance. 
{Enter Jaj^et, from house.) 

jAiiTET sees the dancing, and Kate and Jack together. Looks 
at Kate's wedding-ring; at first astonished ; goes to Peter and 
entreats him to come to Kate. After much hesitation 

Pktee hobbles up to Kate and Jack, joins their hands, and 
blesses them. 

Tableau, ivith Villagers in hackgroimd. 

{Curtain.) 

The selection of a Pantomime for parlor performance is by no 
means an easy matter. The pieces usually met with are writ- 
ten for professional actors, and are full of difficulty for the ama- 
teur performer, who is not supposed to have much knowledge 
of stage routine. The foregoing Pantomime has been prepared 
to obviate these objections as far as possible, introducing only 
such actions or situations as are entirely within the capabilities 
of a parlor comedian. 

The combat between Jack and Albert, on page 361, may be 
made highly melodramatic in its details, and rendered very ef- 
fective if well performed. If the skill of the actors will allow 
it, the battle may be fought with short swords; the regular, 
harmless stage articles, of course ; but this wiU require prac- 



366 WSAT SHALL WE DO TO-NIQHTf 

tice; and more thorough rehearsal than when using merely 
nature's weapons. 

The only action that may need some explanation is on page 
363; where Peter has to tell Albert that he has missed his mark 
three times, but will not fail in the fourth attempt. To make 
this plain, the following action is suggested for Peter's guidance : 
Strike the head of the barrel once with the club, hold up one 
finger, and shake the head in disappointment; repeat a 
second and third time, holding up two and three J&ngers re- 
spectively. Then take the club in the left hand, and shake the 
right fist, clenched in a determined manner; seize the club 
with the right hand firmly, strike a fourth blow, hold up four 
fingers, and nod repeatedly to Albert with a smile of satisfaction. 
When this action is finished, a gentle tap with the foot against 
the barrel will give Jack the ^^cue" to expose the dummy-head, 
etc. The rest of the play is very easy, and, if well acted, will 
be fully as effective as a more elaborate performance. 

L'Envoi. 

' Having brought our round of entertainments to a close, we 
part with regret from the genial companions whose presence 
and assistance have contributed so much to render our social 
meetings amusing and agreeable. We console ourselves, how- 
ever, with the hope that many a parlor, where the tedious hum 
of conversation has hitherto been the only source of amuse- 
ment, may be made, through our modest efforts, to ring with 
joyous laughter and hearty applause. 



Dick & Fitzgerald, 

PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 



***The Publisners, upon receipt of the .Price, -will send an jT 
Of the folloAving books by mail, POSTAGE PAID, to any pari 
of the United States. In ordering books, the full name, p0S9 
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